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THE HAND 



BY 05SIP SCHUBJN 

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Lula. 

THE . 


HAND OF DESTINY 


BY 

OSSIP SCHUBINmf^, 


Translated by MARY A. ROBINSON 


“ Life is a comedy to those who think, 

A tragedy to those who feel.” 

Horace Walpole. 


NEW YORK 

WORTHINGTON CO., 747 BROADWAY 

1893 


?Z3 

tf 


Copyright, 1892, by 
WORTHINGTON CO. 


486555 

AUG Z 1 1942 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


PART I.~CARNiyAL 


CHAPTER I. 

It was 'in Rome, in 187-. Roman society had 
already separated into the monde noir and the inonde 
blanc, and had not yet shown the slightest inclina- 
tion to unite in a monde gris. 

Plis holiness the Pope had barricaded himself be- 
hind his prestige of a martyr, and the King had com- 
menced to hold his court at the Quirinal. 

Among the most prominent of the Austrians who 
were spending the winter in Rome were the Otto 
Ilsenberghs. Count Otto Ilsenbergh, one of the 
heads of the feudal party in Austria, had. come to 
Rome nominally for his health, but in reality 
merely for the purpose of consulting the sources 
offered by the Vatican Library with regard to the 
“History of Miracles,” which he has since pub- 
lished under some curious pseudonym. 

He, with his wife and a whole flock of red-haired 
young Ilsenberghs of all sizes and ages, lived in 
3 


4 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


the Corso, in the Palazzo , a rambling historical 

building, with cold, stone staircases, and lofty, 
hall-like apartments, which seemed more appro- 
priate for meetings of conspirators than for inno- 
cent routs and dancing-parties. 

The countess always received in the evening, 
when she had nothing more amusing to take her 
out. She was by birth a Princess Auerstein, of 
the Auerstein-Zolling branch, the women of which, 
as is well known, are all distinguished for their 
white eyebrows and their strict morals. 

People liked to go to the Ilsenberghs ; there was 
no stiffness about their receptions. Smoking was 
allowed in their parlors ; the countess even smoked 
herself, generally regalias. 

It was the beginning of December. Heavy drops 
of rain were beating against the windows outside. 
In an uncomfortably large apartment, decorated 
with frescoes. Count Ilsenbergh sat at a small buhl 
table, which was evidently constructed merely for 
the inditing of love-letters, scribbling away at an 
article for Our Times. This was the title of a 
journal of feudal tendencies, which was patronized 
by the count, subscribed for from feudal ostenta- 
tion by his friends of the aristocracy, but absolutely 
read by no one except liberal journalists, when 
they were hunting for reactionary absurdities. 

Count Ilsenbergh was much depressed. Austrian 
statesmanship had once more crowned its previous 
remarkable achievements by one still more remark- 
able-^it h^d, for the fourth time in three years, 


TtlE HAND OF DFSTINV. 


S 

announced a “ new era,” and, setting aside all preju- 
dices, had thrown together at haphazard an ex- 
quisitely liberal ministry, which possibly was des- 
tined to firmly establish the welfare of the peoples 
of Austria, but certainly would enrich the drawing- 
rooms of the Ringstrasse by half a dozen Excellen- 
cies. 

Count Ilsenbergh prophesied the end of the world. 

The countess was reclining in an easy-chair be- 
side a renaissance fireplace, framed in by marble 
chimeras. Handsomely bound editions of “ Momm- 
sen” and “ Ampere” were lying about on the tables 
in the room ; she held in her hand a shabby novel 
from a circulating library. She was a large, florid 
blonde, with a heavy figure, though small hands 
and feet ; her features were insignificant. She 
spoke German and French with a strong Viennese 
accent, was awkward in her movements, and be- 
hind the fashion in her dress ; and yet no one eould 
fail to recognize in her the lady, the aristocrat. An 
imposing accessory at all court festivities, she 
never stumbled over her train, and knew how to 
bear the burden of her family jewels with stately 
indifference. 

The portiere was thrown back. “ General Von 
Klinger,” was announced. 

General Von Klinger was an old Austrian who 
had, indeed, been so fortunate as to distinguish 
himself, with his cavalry regiment, at Sadowa, in 
1866; but then, furious at “the national blunder” 
of which Austria had been guilty, had bidden 


6 THE hand of bEStiNV; 

adieu to a military career, and, with the title of 
general conferred upon him on his resignation, had 
devoted himself entirely to painting. In his regi- 
ment he had been considered quite a genius, and 
had won considerable reputation by his faculty of 
jotting down galloping horses ridden by stooping 
jockeys, with his gold pencil, on the back of old 
letters or visiting-cards. That which excited the 
greatest admiration in these works of art was the 
stupendous rapidity of their execution. Since 
then he had “ studied art” in Paris, had been three 
times rejected by the jury of the Salon," and had 
made up his mind to consider this a distinction — 
thanks to the brilliant example of Rousseau, De- 
lacroix, and many other martyrs who had been 
obliged to submdt to the same thing. As a misun- 
derstood genius he had left Paris for Rome, where 
he established himself as a painter in a splendid 
studio on the Piazza Navona. This studio wms open 
to the public daily from three to five, and was a 
favorite place of rendezvous for Roman societ^N 

People smiled at the old soldier’s art, without 
finding him ridiculous. He was a man of honor 
and a gentleman. Like many old bachelors, whose 
single state is the result of a youthful disappoint- 
ment in love, he was gruff and sarcastic on a senti- 
mental background — in short, a pessimistic idealist. 
A handsome, erect old officer, with a stiff shirt-collar 
and romantic eyes, he rejoiced in the special favor 
of all the great ladies of Rome. 

“ It was very good of you to think of us, ” said the 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


7 


countess in a tone of cordial welcome, adding: 
“Shocking weather, is it not? Try to warm your- 
self a little.” 

Count Ilsenbergh turned to him from his writing- 
table, and said: “How are you, general? An old 
friend like you will excuse me if I go on with my 
work — just a few lines more — three words. These 
are serious times, in which each one of us must 
fight valiantly at his own post!” and this outguard 
of the feudal cause dipped his pen dejectedly into 
the inkstand. 

The general begged him not to disturb himself. 
The countess said a few words about some musical 
soiree; the count, .shortly after, made a flourish 
under his completed article, saying triumphantly, 
“That will give them a nut to crack!” and joined 
the other two at the fireplace. 

The rolling of a carriage was heard in the court. 

“That may be Truyn; he arrived yesterday,” 
remarked the countess, and, in fact. Count Truyn 
was announced. 

Eric Truyn, at the time of which we are speak- 
ing, was a man in the thirties, with prematurely 
gray hair and an expression of indifference in his 
half-closed eyes. He was called “ Truyn the 
frappd,'" because he always gave the impression of 
having been cooled in the ice of the highest dis- 
tinction. His rigid exterior had won for him the 
reputation of being intensely proud, and belied his 
inner man. 

He was possessed of uncommonly good and 


8 


THE HAND OF OESTINY. 


noble qualities, and that which was looked upon 
as pride in him was, in reality, only the diffidence 
of a highly sensitive nature, which, having possibly 
on some occasion drawn ridicule upon itself by 
idealistic extravagances, was now anxious to con- 
ceal the inner shrine of its feelings from the de- 
rision of the world. 

“Ah, Truyn, here you are at last! How are 
you?” cried the countess with her hearty cordiality. 

“As usual, thank you,” said Truyn, in answer to 
her question about his health. 

“ How is your wife?” asked Ilsenbergh. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Is she still in Nice?” 

“I don’t know;” and with these words his face 
assumed a peculiarly cold and rigid expression. 

“Shall you stay in Rome long?” the countess in- 
quired, her innate tact prompting her to turn the 
conversation to a more satisfactory subject. 

“As long as my little comrade likes it, and it 
agrees with her,” was Truyn ’s answer. He called 
his only child, a daughter of about twelve, his 
“little comrade.” 

“You must bring Gabrielle to see us some day,” 
remarked the countess ; “ my Mimi and my Lintchi 
are just about her age.” 

“ I will present her to you in a day or two ; but un- 
fortunately she is very bashful. She is shy of every 
stranger; only the general there, and our cousin 
Sempaly, have succeeded in winning her heart.” 

“Nicki?” exclaimed the countess in astonish- 


The MaNid of OFSTfNV. § 

llient. “ Has he the patience to get along with 
children?” 

“ Not only that, but he has a peculiar talent for 
it. He dined with us to-day.” 

“You never know what to expect of him,” com- 
plained the countess ; “ he hardly ever comes to see 
us.” 

At that moment a light step was heard outside, 
and Count Sempaly was announced. 

Lupus in fabula,'" remarked llsenbergh. 

The new-comer was a man of about twenty-eight 
or nine, of medium height, slender, but strongly 
built, had regular, uncommonly fine-cut features, 
with a dark complexion, an insinuating smile, and 
large blue eyes under broad, brownish lids. With 
that same insinuating smile he could make the most 
audaciously malicious speeches, and it was never 
easy to decide whether the sparkle in his eye meant 
a flash of lightning or a sunbeam. 

With perfunctory gallantry he kissed the tips of 
the countess’ fingers; greeted the others with a 
brusque cordiality peculiar to him, and finally took 
a seat beside the lady of the house. 

“You do well to show yourself once more; we 
really see too little of you, Nicki ; and you are hardly 
ever to be met with elsewhere, either,” observed 
the countess, in a tone of affectionate remonstrance. 
“ Why do you mingle so little in respectable so- 
ciety ?” 

“ Because he finds another kind more entertain- 
ing,” chuckled llsenbergh in a low tone. 


iO the HANt) OF DESTINY. 

A severe look from his wife, however, imme- 
diately induced him to assume an air of dignity. 

“ I don’t get a chance,” said Sempaly in excuse; 
“ I have really too much to do.” 

“Too much to do?” asked Truyn, with his quiet 
sarcasm. “ With politics, eh? What is there new?” 

“ A remarkable leader in the Temps, on the wash- 
basin question,” replied Sempaly, with perfidious 
gravity. 

“The wash-basin question?” repeated the whole 
company in unanimous amazement. 

“Yes,” continued Sempaly placidly; “the mat- 
ter is this. When, recently, the young Duke of 

B n, in Paris, entered upon his year of military 

service, he was painfully struck by the fact that he 
was not only expected to live in barracks with his 
comrades, but also to wash at the pump, like a com- 
mon soldier. This exasperated his mamma to such 
a degree that she applied to the war department, 
with the request that her son might be furnished 
with a separate wash-basin. After a long consul- 
tation the department denied her request. It had 
been found that that separate wash-basin would 
not be in accordance with the immortal principles 
of ’89.” 

“That is hardly credible,” observed Truyn; 
Ilsenberg shrugged his shoulders, and the countess 
asked naively : 

“ What are the immortal principles of ’89?” 

“ They were a species of idealistic treaties of 
peace between the canaille and the aristocracy,” said 


HAND OF DESTINY. 


II 


Sempaly coolly ; “ or, if you prefer it, they were the 
first capitulations of prejudice at the feet of hu- 
manity,” he added, humorously. 

The countess was no wiser than before. Sempaly, 
smiling maliciously, fanned himself with a Jap- 
anese hand-screen, and Ilsenbergh remarked: 

“Ah, you are a democrat, Sempaly?” 

“From a bird’s-eye point of view,” observed 
Truyn dryly. His cousin’s liberalism inspired him 
with little confidence. 

“ I am always a democrat when I have been read- 
ing ‘The Middle Ages,’” said Sempaly. “The 
Middle Ages” was the name he gave his cousin’s 
reactionary journal. “ However, joking aside, I 
am liberal; but notwithstanding, I find the in- 
creasing ascendancy of the radicals somewhat 
alarming. Tiejis, I had forgotten to tell you some- 
thing that will please you, Fritzi! The Reds have 
carried off the victory in Paris, and in Madrid some 
one has tried to shoot the king.” 

“ Horrible !” the countess shuddered. “ We shall 
have a second Commune T 

“ '93,” said Truyn, with his quiet sarcasm. 

“ We really ought to have a cordon drawn around 
the Austrian monarchy in order to prevent the 
spreading of the democratic plague which is raging 
there,” Sempaly remarked gravely. “Ilsenbergh, 
you ought to make a motion to that effect in Par- 
liament.” 

“This is no subject for bad jokes,” said the 
countess; “the matter is growing serious.” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“ Not with ns, ” remarked Truyn ; “ our people are 
entirely too patient.” 

“They are healthy at the core,” Ilsenbergh in- 
terrupted him warmly. 

“They do not fully appreciate liberty yet,” said 
Sempaly, smiling; “and, as for equality, they re- 
gard it in the light of metaphysics — as something 
entirely beyond their grasp.” 

“Our people are good and loyal,” replied Ilsen- 
bergh ; “ they know ” 

“Oh,” interrupted Sempaly laughing — “luckily 
for you, they know very little ; let them once open 
their spiritual eyes, and you may be in fear of your 
lives. If I were a journeyman mason, I should be 
a democrat — a socialist, too.” 

After this brilliant culmination Sempaly crossed 
his arms over his breast, and looked about him as 
if challenging a reply. 

“A socialist, you?” cried Ilsenbergh, greatly 
excited. “ No, Nicki, that you could never be. 
There is one thing that would always guard you 
from such wickedness, and that is your religion!” 

“Hm!” muttered Sempaly dubiously. 

Truyn, however, remarked, with a peculiar 
pucker of his lips : “ Possibly, as a journeyman 

mason, Sempaly would not have had much religion. 
He might have found it hard to believe in a God 
who had treated him so shabbily.” 

“Be quiet, Truyn,” Sempaly rebuked his cousin 
rather nervously; “you know I never like to hear 
religion talked about.” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


3 


“ Ah, true ! You wear Catholic blinders, and are 
constantly in fear about your religion. You would 
find it very unpleasant not to be able to hope for a 
good, unlimited prolongation of your comfortable 
little existence,” said Truyn demurely, in a sar- 
castic tone, which sounded rather weary. 

For Sempaly had, in fact, no religion at all; but, 
like all people who are getting along too well in the 
world, he clung firmly to the belief in immortality. 
It was on this account that he wore “ Catholic 
blinders,” and nothing in the world would have in- 
duced him to turn over the leaves of a volume of 
David Strauss. 

“We seem to be in great danger, ” sighed the 
countess, still absorbed in her gloomy fancies. 
“This new ministry!” she shook her head. 

“Will not amount to much,” said Sempaly, “ex- 
cept a few tedious leaders in the newspapers, and 
a great surplus of new laws, of which the govern- 
ment will not take the slightest notice.” 

“The Austrian canaille are beginning to show 
their teeth too,” lamented the distressed countess. 

“ Pah 1 the Austrian canaille are, on the whole, 
good fellows; they won't bite you as long as you 
don’t object to their licking your hands.” 

“ I should dislike the one as much as the other,” 
replied the countess, looking down at her delicate 
white hands with affectionate pride. 

“Tell me, Nicki,”said Ilsenbergh, joining in the 
conversation, “has not the new ministry stood in 
the way of your promotion?” 


14 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

Setnpaly, it must be observed, was an attache of 
the Roman branch of the Austrian factory of politi- 
cal complications — i. e., the Austrian legation at 
Rome. 

“ Of course ; I had hoped to be promoted to Lon- 
don as secretary. But now one of our secretaries 
is to go there, and to fill his place the democrats 
are going to send us one of their prot^g^s. Our 
chief told me of it to-day.” 

“Who is the new secretary?” cried the countess 
hastily; “ if he is a proteg^ of those people, he must 
be a horrible creature!” 

“ A man named Stertzl. He is very highly recom- 
mended, and comes here from Teheran, where he 
is said to have distinguished himself,” said Sempaly. 

“Stertzl!” repeated Ilsenbergh sarcastically. 

“Stertzl!” cried his wife, horrified; “I hope he 
is not married — that would be the worst of all!” 

“ I can set your mind at rest on that subject, 
countess,” remarked the general. “Stertzl is a 
bachelor.” 

“Does he — is he perhaps an acquaintance of 
yours?” she murmured, somewhat embarrassed. 

“ He is the son of one of my dearest comrades,” 
was the general’s reply ; “and if his development 
has fulfilled the promise held out by his capacities, 
he must be a young man of energy and character, 
and possessed of remarkable ability.” 

“That is always worth something,” lisped Ilsen- 
bergh in a tone of condescension. 

“Yes, so it seems to me,” observed Sempaly, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 5 

scratching his head ; “ we ought to have at least one 
worker at the embassy.” 

“They had promised me' the position for my 
nephew,” remarked the countess dejectedly; “it is 
very unpleasant!” 

“Very!” said Sempaly with humor. “Such a 
foreign element is disturbing, after all, isn’t it ? We 
had rather be entirely entre nous,'' 

At that moment tea was brought in on a Japanese 
stager e ; and the secretary who was a commoner 
was forgotten for the present. 


CHAPTER 11. 


Sempaly not only played the democrat in order 
to vex his cousin, but he was quite serious in 
thinking himself very liberal, because he made bad 
jokes about the conservatives, and looked upon the 
nobility as a venerable structure, which, as he de- 
clared, was about as well adapted to the spirit of 
the times as the Pyramids, only considerably less 
durable. But in spite of his theoretical respect for 
the rights of humanity, in spite of his witty con- 
tempt for the reactionary party, Sempaly was less 
tolerant than his mediae vally constituted cousin. 
Ilsenbergh, with all his feudal mysticism, was noth- 
ing but an official aristocrat; Sempaly was an in- 
stinctive one. Ilsenbergh ’s sense of rank was a 
matter of party and of pride, while with Sempaly 
it was a matter of the nerves. 

A few days after the lively discussion at the 
Ilsenberghs, Sempaly met the general, told him 
that the new secretary had arrived, and added, with 
a smile: “I hardly think he can keep his position.” 

“Why?” asked the general. 

“ Because he speaks bad French and knows noth- 
ing about old porcelain,” answered Sempaly with 
great gravity. Then he continued: “Yesterday I 
introduced him to Countess Gandry. Jle had 

i6 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


7 


hardly left us, when she asked (hm! she is the 
daughter of a leather-dealer in Lille), ‘Is he noble?’ 
and only think — I could not give her any informa- 
tion on the subject ! I never can remember 

‘What commoners are Baron called, 

What Jew hath Christian turned?’ ” 

And then he added, with an indescribable smile: 
“ His Christian name is Cecil Maria ! * ‘ Cecil Maria 
Stertzl’ sounds well, doesn’t it?” 

Cecil Maria! The name seemed ridiculous, and 
was not in the least suited to its bearer. His father 
had been a colonel of dragoons, who, however, had 
left the army early, and devoted himself to that 
favorite occupation of retired army officers — agri- 
culture. 

His mother was a faded “ Fraulein Von 

She had all her linen — not only that included in her 
trousseau, but also that which was subsequently 
purchased for family use — embroidered with her 
coronet, raised a flag with the colors of her coat-of- 
arms on the turret of the little chdteau^ and per- 
mitted all her acquaintances to call her Baroness, 
although she had never borne that title. 

When, a year after her marriage, she gave birth 
to a beautiful boy, there was, of course, a long dis- 
cussion with regard to the name by which he should 
be baptized. 

* In many Catholic countries the name of the Virgin is 
given to boys in baptism — as, for instance, Carl Maria von 
Weber. — Tr. 

Z 


1 8 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

“Cecil Maria!” lisped the mother. 

“ Nonsense ! The boy shall be called Anton > after 
his grandfather,” cried her husband very sensibly. 

But on this the young wife burst into tears. 

What can a man’s good sense accomplish in op- 
position to the tears of the mother of his first-born ? 

The boy was christened Cecil Maria. When 
Stertzl senior was hardly forty, he died of scarlet 
fever. His youngest daughter, whom he idolized, 
was dangerously ill with that malignant disease, 
and he had contracted it while devoting himself to 
her care. 

Cecil, at the time, was a handsome, rather clumsy 
lad, with great contempt for the French language, 
which his sister’s governess was attempting to 
instil into him, and a decided predilection for an 
intercourse with coachmen and peasant boys. The 
baroness was constantly complaining that he was 
idle, and that he did not “take proper care” of his 
hands. 

An elder brother of the deceased. General 
Stertzl, had been appointed guardian to the or- 
phans. He was sincerely interested in the chil- 
dren’s welfare, managed their property with cir- 
cumspection, and supervised their education con- 
scientiously. After a brief yet keen glance at the 
talented but neglected boy, his affected mother, 
and the timid tutor, he shrugged his shoulders at 
“such a mess,” and placed Cecil at the “Theresia- 
num” — that celebrated military academy for scions 
of the nobility which all Austrian officers consider 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 9 

an excellent educational institution ; that is, if they 
have not been educated in it themselves. 

For the first six months, Cecil felt wretchedly 
unhappy in his new surroundings. During the 
whole of his short life, he had been accustomed to 
be first everywhere ; it seemed very hard to him 
suddenly to be last and least in the Theresianum. 

Although he surpassed the greater part of his 
schoolmates in intelligence, he was yet, thanks to 
his neglected education, behind nearly all of them 
in his studies. And at that time, with the excep- 
tion of a youth from Gratz, who was constantly 
boasting of a brilliant illegitimate pedigree, he was 
the only commoner in that aristocratic institution. 

His comrades ridiculed his Moravian accent, his 
awkwardness, his name. We have all had to sub- 
mit to similar jokes while at school. He could not 
become reconciled to the necessity of this for a long 
time, and during the first term did not cease to im- 
portune his mother and his guardian by letter for 
deliverance from his durance. But his mother and 
his guardian remained deaf to his entreaties. 

The results which Cecil brought home from 
school in the midsummer vacation were a depressed 
state of mind and long white nails, to which he 
gave a great deal of care. 

He commenced the next school-year by giving a 
thrashing to the tiresome boy from Gratz, who made 
himself odious to the whole school by his monoto- 
nous illegitimate boasts and other affectations. This 
secured for Cecil, for the moment, great popularity. 


20 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


He began to study assiduously. His professors 
praised his progress: his complaints ceased. 

Had that subtle, vanity-awakening poison which 
pervades the whole academy penetrated also to his 
soul? Did he, too, begin to feel the charm of 
hearing mass said by a bishop on Sundays and holi- 
days, of being waited on every day by orderlies 
in gold-laced uniforms, of taking dancing-lessons 
of the same veteran ballet-dancer who teaches at 
court, of being on a thee-and-thou footing with the 
most aristocratic names of Austria? That was a 
question which would have been very difficult to 
decide. Apparently he accepted all this with the 
most profound indifference, nor did he put on any 
airs whatever. He had an enormous amount of 
pride. 

Later on he was sent to the Oriental Academy, 
graduated from it with the highest honors, and 
then, still under his uncle’s protection, entered upon 
a diplomatic career. He was sent to an Asiatic 
capital, which was just at that time infested by 
cholera and revolutionary disturbances. He dis- 
tinguished himself, and received the Order of the 
Iron Cross. 

There was one subject upon which Austrian so- 
ciety in Rome soon agreed : the new secretary of 
legation was not a person upon whom judgment 
could be passed with witty satire. There was noth- 
ing commonplace, nothing paltry about him. 

He was a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with 
an erect carriage, which gave him the appearance 


the Hand of destinV. 

of an army officer in citizen’s clothes; with brown 
hair, closely cropped, and strong, clear-cut features. 
His manners were rather awkward, though correct, 
but at the same time perfectly simple and unassum- 
ing. 


CHAPTER III. 


The opinion of the new secretary which the am- 
bassador expressed was quite different from that 
of Sempaly. 

“ My best worker,’’ said his excellency ; “ a won- 
derful worker — keen head, enormous ability, but 
unfortunately but little pliability — too little plia- 
bility.” 

And it was not only his chief whose regard he 
had won in a very short time : with his younger 
colleagues, too, he was soon on the most friendly 
terms. One quality, which is very rare in persons 
who take life as seriously as he did, manifested it- 
self in him — he never cavilled. 

The “ complication -factory” in Rome was at that 
time so overcrowded with good-looking, graceful 
idlers that, as Sempaly remarked, with witty frivol- 
ity, the Palazzo di Venezia was creating more and 
more the impression of a select boarding-school for 
young countesses with mustaches. Stertzl tolerated 
their innocent doings with the utmost good-nature. 
No serious attention to business could possibly be 
expected from these young gentlemen; it would 
have been just as easy to train butterflies to work 
like ants. He was always ready to hush up their 
little neglects of duty, to concede every liberty to 
their pleasures. His aim was to work, to accom- 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 53 

plisli something — that was //w affair; they wanted 
to trifle, to enjoy life — that was theirs. And, in 
the mean time, they all agreed charmingly. 

But though Stertzl had soon made himself ex- 
tremely popular among his colleagues, between him 
and Roman society there reigned a certain cold- 
ness. 

His predecessor had not made the slightest pre- 
tensions to accomplishing anything in the way of 
his profession. But he waltzed well, and, what is 
more, did not despise that occupation. He had 
been a favorite with the ladies. They deplored his 
loss deeply, and were looking forward with impa- 
tience to the advent of his successor. Stertzl was 
little calculated to replace him. He was entirely 
wanting in that cheerful amenity and amiable 
superficiality which are indispensable to a man’s 
popularity in the world. 

His grave conscientiousness and pedantic frank- 
ness quite unfitted him for the desultory intercourse 
of society. 

In company he was mostly a silent observer. 
When he did talk, he always said exactly what he 
thought, and expected every one else to do the 
same. He could not understand that the flatteries 
and hypocritical considerations customary in society 
are, after all, but a stunted kind of charity; that 
the universal sincerity which he demanded would 
necessarily have degenerated into a universal war ; 
that the dividing-line between frankness and im- 
pertinence, between hypocrisy and a sense of pro- 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


^4 

priety, has not yet been clearly defined ; that it is 
just as unsuitable to speak the whole truth in com- 
pany as to appear there in shirt-sleeves; that, in 
view of the defective nature of our souls, we must 
rejoice at the rules of propriety which forbid us to 
show these souls inadequately clothed. Good hea- 
vens ! what would we behold if this were not the 
case? 

We cannot exist without falsehood. 

A person who is used to society demands a 
falsehood of it. It is his right, a courtesy to which 
he has a claim. As soon as a man in society is no 
longer “ worth lying to,” he has “ finished his part,” 
like Countess Orsina, and “can go his way.” * 

With ladies Stertzl had no success whatever. 
They called him paysan du Danube, '' 

Men respected him; they merely regretted his 
extravagant notions, particularly his morbid sensi- 
tiveness with regard to affairs of honor. But that 
is a fault which is never seriously censured by the 
male sex. 

Stertzl was utterly indifferent to what was said 
of him by people for whom he had no personal re- 
gard. Ever ready to make any sacrifice for a 
friend, he sometimes forgot even to bow to ac- 
quaintances in the street. With his head full of 
magnificent projects, he pursued his aim with de- 
cision and directness. He was certainly destined 
to accomplish great things, possibly to reach a great 
end — but 

* See Lessing’s “Emilia Galotti."— Tr. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Princess Vulpini, who had caught the contagion 
of the new fashionable disease, “morbus Schlie- 
maniensis,” had discovered a new and remarkable 
prize at a second-hand dealer’s in the Via d’ Aracoeli. 
She had purchased from him two wonderful es- 
cutcheons, said to be from drawings by Benvenuto 
Cellini, and a piece of tapestry-hanging after de- 
signs by Raphael, and had now invited a few inti- 
mate friends, Truyn, Sempaly, General Von Klinger 
and an Austrian attache, Count Siegburg, to inves- 
tigate the genuineness of her acquisitions. 

The princess was a sister of Truyn ’s, and was 
perhaps a few years older than her brother Eric. 
She had made the acquaintance of the prince at 
Vichy, where she had spent a bathing-season with 
her invalid father, had married him soon after, and 
for the past ten or twelve years had resided in 
Rome, which she loved, although she had never 
ceased to complain of various Roman discomforts, 
still had a great affection for Vienna, and had 
everything she needed sent from “home,” because 
she was convinced that there was nothing to be 
bought in Rome but photographs, antiquities, and 
wax-tapers. 


35 


26 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. 


Dinner was over ; the conversation had been very 
animated. The whole time had been spent in rail- 
ing at the new Italian government. When coffee 
and cigarettes made their appearance, all turned 
their attention to the antiquities, which were lying 
on the carpet, ready for investigation. Now one, 
then another of the gentlemen went down on the 
floor on his hands and knees, in order to look 
closely at the arazzi and at the bronzes, and then 
conscientiously gave his opinion. 

The only person who was thoroughly convinced 
of the genuineness of these objects was Countess 
Marie Schalingen,a canoness, who had been in Rome 
only a, few weeks, and was a guest of the princess. 
The others had their doubts. The one who ex- 
pressed his most energetically was Count Siegburg, 
who, though he understood less than any one 
present about such things, flung about him the 
words “ galvanoplastic” and “imitation” with sov- 
ereign aplomb. 

Wieprecht, or, as he was called, Wips Siegburg, 
was a great favorite in the Austrian circle. I 
hardly think that he would have invented gunpow- 
der, or determined the motion of the earth ; but, on 
the other hand, he was certainly far more agreeable 
for social intercourse than Berthold Schwarz or 
Galileo would have been. He had been attached 
to the legation, not to make a career, but simply 
to get him away from Vienna, where his debts had 
of late assumed entirely too formidable propor- 
tions. His widowed mother, after long pondering 


THE Hand OE DESTINV. 27 

the matter, had at last discovered this advantage- 
ous mode of checking- her son’s extravagance. 

“You make me nervous, Siegburg!’’ cried the 
princess, at last; “you know you have not the 
faintest idea of the value of antiquities.” 

“ You may be right, princess, ” was his calm reply. 
“ At any rate, I’ve lost a good deal of my firm faith 
in my critical powers lately. Formerly I imagined 
that the genuineness of a piece of antiquity could 
be determined by the amount of dirt adhering to 
it. But since I have learned that even the dirt is 
often counterfeited, I have no longer any rule to 
go by.” 

This little sally caused general merriment — not 
because it was very witty, but because people 
always laughed at everything which Siegburg said. 

They were all assembled in the smoking-room, 
an apartment rendered as picturesque as it . was 
comfortable by dark carved furniture and Oriental 
rugs, and the company was pervaded by the true 
“ entre-nous' spirit — a mixture of courteous amenity 
and cordial familiarity. They did not exactly con- 
verse in an intellectual way on learned topics ; they 
even gossiped a little, made some very bad jokes, 
and related anecdotes which savored of St. Simon, 
and yet harmed no one, because neither those who 
told them nor those who listened followed up every 
episode to its remotest consequences, or chemically 
analyzed the point of every witticism — in a word, 
because they were not thorough. Superficiality is 
a good thing at times. 


58 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. 


“ I feel so thoroughly at home, so Austrian to- 
night,” said the princess : “ I only fear our pleasure 
will be of short duration. I have a presentiment of 
evil: Countess Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson are din- 
ing in the neighborhood.” 

At that moment “ Sua Eccellenza il Principe 
Norina” was announced. 

“ Coming events cast their shadows before them,” 
quoted Sempaly in a low tone. It was a well- 
known fact that whenever Principe Norina made 
his appearance in a Roman salon, Countess Gandry 
would arrive, soon after. 

The Principe was tall and fair-haired, a male 
fashion-plate beauty, and had been for four or five 
years the slave of the above-mentioned lady. 

He paid his respects to the princess, shook hands 
generally, and then was involved by the master of 
the house in a lively conversation upon — the latest 
abuses perpetrated by the royal government? Vul- 
pini belonged to the blackest of the black, was a 
firm adherent of the Papal party, more from a po- 
litical than from a religious point of view — chiefly 
because he, a fanatically exclusive Roman, could 
not endure to make common cause with the 
“Italians,” and looked upon the “Unita Italia” as 
a party-colored chimera. 

The Principe Norina, who had no political con- 
victions whatever, and who frequented the “ Caccia” 
Club * quite as much as the “ Scacchi,” f nodded as- 


Hunting Club. 


f Chess Club, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 2g 

sent to all that was said, and did not follow the 
prince at all. 

Soon after his arrival the company repaired to the 
salo7t, a drearily vast apartment filled with a rather 
variegated mixture of Louis XIV. and Empire fur- 
niture, which was situated between the official re- 
ception-hall, where the princess received the world 
in general, and her boudoir, to which only her most 
intimate friends were admitted. 

The vivacity of the general conversation had 
diminished considerably, and the moment had ar- 
rived when several of those present were begin- 
ning to look over photographs. 

Mesdames de Gandry and Ferguson were an- 
nounced, and entered the room with a loud rustling 
of dresses. 

Countess Gandry, a pale brunette, interesting 
rather than handsome, with a short nose and un- 
pleasantly piercing eyes ; yery loud and very fond 
of admiration, at the same time impertinent and 
regardless of others — chiefly because she considered 
it ''grand genre'' to be so — had for the past five 
years held her sceptre over Principe Norina. 

Society, however, possibly for its own conven- 
ience, had tacitly agreed with itself to look upon 
the relation of the two as merely a friendly one. 
Countess Gandry bore the reputation of being one 
of those women who, never subject to giddiness, 
take pleasure in walking on the edge of precipices. 

Mrs. Ferguson, the daughter of a hotel-keeper 
in San Francisco, and the wife of an ever-invisible 


30 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Croesus, was, in contrast to Madame de Gandry,very 
white, with very light hair, large eyes, and small, 
sharp teeth. She was, withal, very frail in figure 
and flat in the bust, like almost all American wo- 
men. She dyed her hair, painted, dressed very 
conspicuously, spoke queer English and wretched 
French, sang doubtful couplets like Judic, and had 

been launched on society by the Marchese B , 

whose acquaintance .she had made at Nice. Her 
friendship with Countess Gandry had commenced 
with a common landau, would culminate in a com- 
mon box at the opera, and probably be wrecked by 
a common adorer. 

A few more gentlemen also arrived. Count 
Gandry, who looked like an elegant hair-dresser, 
and was suspected of carrying on an anonymous 
trade in antiquities ; further, Mr. Dieudonne Cres- 
pigny de Bellancourt, a broad-shouldered French 
diplomat, son of a butcher, brother-in-law to a 
duke, etc. . . . The conversation turned upon 

the latest domestic trial of the del Z ’s, on the 

Roman climate, and on excavations. Mesdames de 
Gandry and Ferguson at first submitted to the dec- 
orous tedium of a general conversation, but soon, 
by various tricks, contrived to concentrate upon 
themselves as much masculine attention as was at 
all attainable under the circumstances. 

After eleven o’clock Countess Ilsenbergh made 
her appearance. She had come from a grand gala- 
dinner, and looked bored. 

“ It is really ridiculous what kind of people you 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


31 


meet here in Rome,” she remarked in the course 
of the conversation, after having answered various 
questions about the fHe which she had attended. 

“ Do you know whom I saw to-day, Marie? That 
Lenz woman from Vienna — now, by the way, her 
name is Montidor ; she has become a contessa or 
duchessa, I don’t know which. I had something 
to do with her years ago in some charitable affair. 
And now she rushes up to me, hails me as an old 
acquaintance, acts as if we were quite intimate; 
talks about ^we Austrians,’ and ' oiir Vienna!’ Isn’t 
that comical, eh?” 

“ Hm ! poor Fritzi ! You are really to be pitied,” 
remarked Sempaly, with a malicious smile. “ Well, 
you have another especial pleasure in prospect: 
mother and sister Stertzl will be in Rome in a few 
days.” 

“Indeed? .... Hm! That is rather disa- 
greeable.” 

“Why?” asked Madame de Gandr)^ joining in 
the conversation with great vivacity. “ Are they 
suspicious characters?” 

Pas du tout,'' Countess Ilsenbergh interrupted 
her quickly ; “ I believe they are the most respect- 
able people in the world, but — it is at all events 
dreadfully embarrassing to be constantly meeting 
persons in society whom you can’t possibly see in 
Vienna. You ought to give him a hint, Nicki. 

. . . You ought to tell him . . . tell him. . . .” 

“ Yes, Fritzi,” replied Sempaly, smiling; “ I’ll say 
to him : ‘ My dear fellow, don’t think of taking your 


32 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


ladies into society here : it would shock my cousin, 
Countess Ilsenbergh, terribly.’ ” 

The countess turned away from her provoking 
cousin with a shrug of the shoulders, opened and 
shut her yellow tortoise-shell fan rather nervously, 
and then asked : “Shall you receive these people, 
Marie?” 

“Whom do I not receive?” replied the princess, 
in an undertone, with a peculiar look. 

“I cannot do it — decidedly not!” cried Countess 
Ilsenbergh, more and more irritated, “although 
I should be very sorry to hurt Stertzl’s feelings. 
He would have only himself to blame if I were 
forced to do it.” 

“Do as you like,” said the princess; “but you 
know I am much interested in Stertzl — he is a great 
favorite of mine.” 

“ That ' pay sail du Danube ' ? ” giggled Madame de 
Gandry, to whom the conversation of the two 
Austrian ladies remained rather incomprehen- 
sible. 

“Stertzl is a very respectable young man,” re- 
marked Countess Ilsenbergh icily; she could not 
permit Countess Gandry to ridicule her country- 
man, even though he was a commoner. 

“The ' paysan du Danube' is my especial friend,” 
said Princess Vulpini very decidedly, with the al- 
most childlike ingenuousness that so distinguished 
her whole manner. “ I like him : we always re- 
main entre nous with him.” 

“ You could find no higher praise than that in 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 33 

the whole world, to be sure,” said Truyn with 
good-natured sarcasm. 

“ When my little boy broke his arm, here in this 
room, Stertzl took him up; and you ought to have 
seen how tenderly he lifted my poor pet,” continued 
the princess. 

“ That is certainly proof positive of his mother’s 
and sister’s admissibility to society,” remarked 
Sempaly with a laugh. 

“Excuse my asking,” cried Countess Gandry, 
throwing herself into the conversation ; “ it is 

merely for the sake of knowing what to do. Are 
the Stertzls not received in society in Austria? ” 

“Our Austrian customs can hardly establish a 
precedent for foreign society,” said Truyn rather 
sharply, Madame de Gandry being no favorite of 
his. “We do not receive anyone who does not 
belong to our set by birth.” 

“Yes,” said Sempaly humorously, “Austrian so- 
ciety is as exclusive as the tribe of Israel. It dis- 
dains to make converts.” 

And the leather-dealer’s daughter, who evidently 
had not understood, or did not wish to understand 
Truyn ’s words, said, with much assurance: “I am 
glad, to be ati fait on the matter.” 

Siegburg, who was sitting somewhat behind 
her, winked at Sempaly, and made an inimitable 
grimace. 

Princess Vulpini looked almost angry. “ I shall 
not desert Stertzl,” she cried, “and if his sister is 

as he describes her ” 

3 


34 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“Has he told you about his sister already ?” Sem- 
paly interrupted her. 

“I should think he had,” replied the princess 
with a good-natured smile ; “ has he told you any- 
thing about her?” 

“ No, indeed ; he never talks with me on subjects 
sacred to him — I am not worthy of it,” answered 
Sempaly. “ He only announced her coming to me, 
and that with a very peculiar smile. Hm! he seems 
to think a good deal of the young lady, and will 
probably want to marry her off advantageously. I 
should be surprised if he had any other motive in 
having her come down here. Norina, be on your 
guard.” 

“ Mademoiselle Stertzl will hardly lay claim to a 
closed coronet,” exclaimed Countess Gandry, de- 
fending her property with some vehemence. 

“ Stertzl will not let his sister go at a lower 
price,” maintained Sempaly. 

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” said Truyn, trying 
to check his cousin’s flippancy. 

The latter, in the mean time, had been bending 
over a little side-table, and was industriously scrib- 
bling on the back of an old letter with his gold 
pencil. After a while he handed the paper to 
Countess Ilsenbergh. 

Madame de Gandry looked over her shoulder. 

“Capital!” she cried, “capital!” 

On the paper Stertzl was represented as an 
auctioneer, a hammer in one hand, a very fashion- 
ably dressed little doll in the other, while around 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


35 


him crowded all the closed coronets of Rome. In 
one corner of the page was written : “ Mademoiselle 
Stertzl going — going — gone!” 

The drawing passed from one hand to the other. 
The resemblance to Stertzl was striking. 

Soon after, Countess Ilsenbergh took her leave, 
and, as the remaining guests were not very ani- 
mated, the two other ladies also withdrew before 
long, upon which those gentlemen who had come 
only on their account followed their example. 

“ Fritzi really has an id^e fixe,"' said the princess, 
shrugging her shoulders, when all indiscreet 
strangers had disappeared. “ Fancy her wanting 
me to take precautionary measures in advance 
against that poor girl ! How could Fraulein Stertzl 
possibly incommode me?” 

“I can’t understand what she means, either,” 
replied Siegburg. ‘‘ However, I have thought of 
a plan : if the young lady is pretty, and has money, 
I’ll marry her; (^ela r Aguiar iser a la position. 

Siegburg was particularly fond of talking about 
the money which he intended his future wife to 
have. He was continually boasting of the self-in- 
terest which he did not possess, just as very rich 
people often boast of their poverty. 

“ Moreover, it was a great want of tact in Fritzi 
to ventilate this silly reception question before 
those two strange women,” continued the princess. 
She was fond of occasionally using strong expres- 
sions — which, however, lost all repulsiveness in 
passing her lips, and sometimes, indeed, were in- 


36 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


vested with a peculiar piquancy; “think of her 
wanting me to become exclusive all of a sudden!” 

“ Did you observe how Madame la Comtesse is 
preparing to follow in Fritzi’s footsteps?” asked 
Siegburg. 

During this conversation Truyn was nervously 
searching the mantelpiece and the Stager e which 
stood near it, in doing which the master of the house 
good-naturedly assisted him. 

“What are you looking for, Eric?” asked the 
princess. 

“Oh, for Sempaly’s drawing! I don't care to 
leave the thing lying about. Excuse me, Nicki, 
the caricature was capital ; I should not have ob- 
jected to it in the least if we had been by ourselves, 
but you ought not to have shown it to those 
strangers. You are too thoughtless; you don’t 
consider what you are doing.” 

“What have I done now?” asked Sempaly, not 
without annoyance. 

“You have simply stamped this young girl as an 
adventuress on the lookout for a good match.” 

“ Pah ! If every careless joke were to be taken 
so seriously!” replied Sempaly. 

The caricature was again searched for every- 
-where, but in vain. 

“ I am convinced that that piazzarola has taken 
it!” cried the princess, much vexed. By that 
pmzarolq ;5he of eourse meant Cpuntess Gandry. 


CHAPTER V. 


Yes, Princess Vnlpini was interested in Stertzl, 
very warmly interested in him, and he returned her 
friendship with an almost enthusiastic reverence. 
In spite of his outwardly cold and matter-of-fact 
manner, he had a poetically chivalrous vein running 
through his nature, and felt the highest admiration 
for pure, true womanliness. 

He did not consider it worth his while to pay 
women those compliments, often impertinent and 
indiscreet, which please some of them ; and of 
modern gallantry he did not know even the alpha- 
bet. 

But, on the other hand, his demeanor in his in- 
tercourse with those whom he called “ true women” 
had much of chivalrous protection and deferential 
reserve ; his whole manner toward them was so full 
of old-fashioned, kind-hearted courtesy that he 
could not but gain ground with them. 

He always treated them partly as children, who 
ought to be protected, and partly as sacred objects, 
to whom one should bend the knee. 

Very shortly after his arrival in Rome, the prin- 
cess had begun to take great pleasure in her inter- 
course with him. She soon confided to him all her 
37 


3 ^ 


The! hand of destinV. 


little annoyances at one or another Roman discom- 
fort, and allowed him to execute many little com- 
missions for her, as, like all women with her 
amiable disposition, she made too much of trifles, 
besides being thoroughly unpractical. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Marie Truyn had been, in her day, one of the 
lovliest girls in the aristocratic circles of Vienna ,> 
and now there was no more charming woman in 
Rome than the Principessa Vulpini, When, of an 
afternoon, she drove in her Jmit-ressorts, with her 
four or five beautiful children, who looked as if 
they had been stolen from a picture-book of Kate 
Greenaway’s, through the Corso to the Villa Bor- 
ghese, the women of fashion, who, instead of their 
children, took some elegant lady friend out driving 
with them, would say : “ Here comes the hen with 
her chickens!” But the men bowed very low to 
her, and she returned their greeting so cordially 
and with so sweet a smile that it made one think 
of spring sunshine. 

She had never been regularly handsome, and had 
even early lost her youthful freshness, as well as 
the slender figure which had at one time been al- 
most proverbial; nevertheless, there was still an 
indescribable charm about her. The greatest orna- 
ment of her youth, her very thick light brown hair, 
she still possessed. She wore it as she had worn it 
as a girl of sixteen, drawn back plainly from her 
temples and coiled in thick plaits low in the neck 
behind. 

In her sweet face, with the small, kindly eyes, a 
39 


40 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. 


delicate little retrouss^ nose, a soft mouth, which 
was beautiful only when she smiled, there was, in 
spite of its fading pallor, something of an almost 
childlike loveliness. Her movements were simple 
and graceful. Around her whole personality there 
hovered the charm of the highest refinement and 
the truest womanliness. 

In her dress she was rather behind the fashion: 
the higher “ chic” made her uncomfortable. She 
read a great deal, and that on serious subjects, even 
on natural science. Notwithstanding this she had 
retained the simple, unquestioning faith of her 
earliest youth. This primitive Catholicism was 
thoroughly in accordance with the warm-hearted 
simplicity of her whole manner. Sempaly, who 
was very proud of her, always alluded to her re- 
ligious enthusiasm as a particularly pleasing feature 
of her character. He declared that, to be truly 
attractive, a woman must be religious; a man might 
take the liberty of being a free-thinker; but a 
woman without religion was as repulsive as one 
with a hump on her back. 

This opinion, which Sempaly expressed toward 
Stertzl on one occasion, gave offence to the latter, 
although he possessed even less positive religion 
than Sempaly. He thought it frivolous. 

“We should not ridicule women who are sacred 
to us,” he said, with the rigid pedantry which al- 
ways raised a spirit of contradiction in Sempaly. 

The latter, however, merely made a sarcastic 
grimace and shrugged his shoulders. • 


CHAPTER VIL 


A FEW days after Sempaly had given such a bril- 
liant proof of his talent for humorous sketching, 
General Von Klinger was sitting in his studio on a 
divan picturesquely draped with a Persian rug, and 
was trying, as he had no other more useful way of 
spending his time, to teach his parrot the Austrian 
national hymn; a loyal piece of work, to which, 
however, the parrot, seated on the top of his cage, 
and flapping his wings loudly, offered vehement 
opposition. 

The general’s studio was a splendid one; a 
vaulted hall, with a frescoed ceiling, surrounded by 
bold rococo stucco-work, and the walls hung with 
various arrazzi. Oriental rugs, and other tapestries. 
In this vast apartment human beings looked like 
dwarfs, and the general’s paintings like the illus- 
trations in a picture-book. 

Outside the sirocco was brooding, warm and gray, 
and the general was in a depressed mood. As was 
frequently the case, he did not get along well 
with his painting, and although the clock had just 
struck the quarter before five, no visitors had as 
yet knocked at his door. Almost every day many 
people dropped in at that hour, sometimes even 
too many. The general often complained — 

41 


42 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

privately, of course — of this interruption, and yet 
was always glad of being thus entertained. It 
made him melancholy to be alone. On the day in 
question he was sadly considering how difficult it 
was to progress satisfactorily in an artist’s career. 
His coloring was excellent — all his brother artists 
assured him of that — but his drawing was imper- 
fect; of that he was himself aware. His specialties 
were a harmonious gray tone, and horses’ cruppers. 
All his pictures, with the exception of one which 
the emperor had bought at a large price, more on 
account of his general’s former military services 
rather than for his present artistic merits — returned 
unsold from the various exhibitions to which they 
were sent. The artists who smoked his cigars ex- 
plained this by the fact that he was too independent 
in his artistic work, too proud “to make concessions 
to the public,” and, in consequence, no widespread 
success was to be expected. 

He was on the point of whistling the national 
hymn to the parrot for the sixteenth time, when 
there was a knock at his outer door. He went to 
answer the summons, and found Sempaly. The 
latter had come to announce to the general that he 
had discovered a badly damaged but still very 
handsome piece of tapestry in a convent, and had 
bought it for a song. In reality he had purchased 
it for the general, as he knew that the latter had for 
some time been looking for something of the kind. 
“But if you should not like it,” he concluded, “I 
will keep it myself.” 


'THE HAND OF DESTINY'. 


43 


No one could do a favor more unassumingly, no 
one express his thanks for one conferred upon him 
more cordially than he. That was another of his 
charming little talents. 

After the two had settled their business, Sempaly 
began to complain, in a heart-breaking manner, of 
the great misfortune of being obliged to dine at the 
English Legation that evening, and later attend a 
ball at the French ambassador’s, and then confided 
to his old friend his longing for an ideal life, in 
which routs, balls, and dinners would be entirely 
done away with. Next he proceeded to examine the 
general’s studies, which the latter always cautiously 
placed with their faces against the wall. After his 
Austrian fashion he alternately said “charming!” 
and “superb!” — merely from good-nature, and be- 
cause he felt irresistibly impelled to say something 
pleasant to everybody. 

“Why don’t you finish that thing?” he asked, at 
last, pointing to a sketch of a couple of Bashi- 
Bazouks. 

“ It would sell better,” replied the general rather 
testily, the “finishing” of his sketches having 
always presented insurmountable difficulties to 
him ; “ but you know I never make any concessions 
to the crowd ; I conform to my convictions, never 
to the demands of the public.” 

At this artistic creed Sempaly smiled, which was 
no more than it deserved. 

“ As the sale of your pictures is, after all, nothing 
but a caprice in your case,” he said civilly, “I 


44 


the hand OE DESTINV; 


would advise you to give' up all idea of it, and leavd 
the whole collection to the government, so that we 
in Vienna can have a Musee Wierz, too.” 

But when the general assured him that -he was 
perfectly serious with regard to selling his pictures, 
Sempaly put on a quizzical look, and began : “ There 
was once a cobbler, and he was a genius, but he 
always conformed only to his sense of the beautiful 
and his artistic convictions, and therefore he made 
nothing but Greek sandals. He died a bankrupt, 
but with the agreeable consciousness of never hav- 
ing made concessions to the public! ...” 

The general was on the point of giving a sharp 
answer to this malicious invention, when that loud 
knocking was once more heard outside which is 
almost de regie on the doors of studios. It sometimes 
takes a good deal to waken an artist from his 
dreams. 

The general went to the door. The studio was 
divided from the hall by a little ante-room. Past 
him there darted, tall, slender, and very pretty, 
a blonde will-o’-the-wisp in a dark dress and a seal- 
skin sacque. 

'‘You, Zinka! — what a surprise!” cried the old 
gentleman, highly pleased. “ When did you get 
here?” 

“This morning,” replied a merry voice. “Did 
no one come with you ?” continued the general in 
surprise, as Zinka closed the door, which he had 
left open, and hastened past him into the studio. 

“No, nobody,” she replied simply; “I left the 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


45 


maid at home ; she and mamma are both fast asleep, 
to get over the journey. I came alone in the car- 
riage; wasn’t that nice of me, eh? Why, what are 
you making such a queer face for? . . . . Why 
haven’t you given me a kiss yet, uncle?” Firm and 
defiant, her head thrown slightly back, her hands 
in a very small muff, the young girl stood before 
him, looking at him, in astonishment with a pair of 
very large gray eyes 

“My dear Zinka,” began the general, who, like 
all conscientious old gentlemen with a romantic 
past, laid almost too much stress on outward de- 
corum where his lady friends were concerned, “ I 
am. delighted to see you. . . . But in a strange 
city, where nobody knows you, and in a strange 
house, where. . . .” 

“Ah, now I see!” cried the young girl. . . . 
“ Ah, it is not proper! ... I shall get to be a hun- 
dred years old before I can learn what is proper! 
Strange, my poor uncle used to say that there was 
no use in thinking about it, because for respectable 
people everything was proper, and for those who 
were not respectable everything was proper too. 
But he evidently knew nothing about it!” With 
this she turned on her heel energetically, and went 
toward the door. 

“ But, my dear Zinka,” cried the general, holding 
her back, “ do tell me, at least, where you are stop- 
ping, before you rush away like a small whirlwind. 
Don’t be unreasonable.” 

“ I am perfectly reasonable,” she answered. She 


46 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


was very mudi embarrassed and exceedingly an- 
gry; her cheeks burned, the tears sparkled in her 
eyes. 

“ I never should have supposed of my own accord 
that it was not proper for me to visit an old gentle- 
man' — and she emphasized the words maliciously — 
“in his studio. O masculine vanity! when will 
thy limits ever be discovered? But I am reason- 
able ; I acknowledge my fault. . . . Fool that I am 1 
. . . There I have been looking forward all day 
to surprising you at your reception-hour, and was 
going to ask you to dine with us at the Hotel de 
r Europe, and first to drive up to the Pincio with me 
and see the sunset. And this is my reward ! . . . 
Don’t take your hat; it is no use; I shall not take 
you with me now, you may be sure. Good-by!” 

With this she hurried away, with head erect, and 
without once looking back at the general, who con- 
scientiously accompanied her down the stairs and 
to her carriage. 

He came back to his studio very much out of 
sorts. There he was greeted by a laughing voice : 

“Thoroughly in disgrace, general!” 

“So it seems,” said the latter curtly, and com- 
menced cleaning a palette. 

“ But do tell me, who is this haughty little prin- 
cess?” 

“Who is she?. . . . She is Zinka Stertzl, my 
god-child !” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Love at first sight is quite out of fashion ; no- 
body believes in it nowadays. Nevertheless, it 
remains a fact, never disputed even by Sempaly 
himself, that he did fall in love with Zinka at first 
sight. 

And when the general, a few days after that young 
lady, in the precipitate manner described above, 
had rushed into his studio, accepted an invitation 
to dine at the Hotel de 1’ Europe with “Baroness 
Stertzl,” he found, when he entered the drawing- 
room, Zinka busily engaged in looking over photo- 
graphs with — Sempaly ! He and the general were 
the only guests. Notwithstanding, or rather in 
consequence thereof, the little dinner was as ani- 
mated and as entertaining as was possible at a table 
which was presided over by so affected a lay-figure 
as the baroness. 

The latter, thoroughly foolish and weak-minded, 
was an embodiment of vanity and absurdity. She 
imagined, Heaven knows why, that the general, in 
former days, had cherished an unrequited affection 
for her, and accordingly constantly treated him 
with a tenderness which was most trying to his 
nerves. Besides this, since she had last seen the 
general — and that was before she^ or rather her chil- 

47 


48 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


dren, had become quite rich by the sale of consider- 
able real estate — she had made astonishing progress 
with regard to affected importance, which of course 
contributed greatly toward making an intercourse 
with her particularly agreeable. She was always 
complaining, in a pseudo-aristocratic, whining tone, 
of everything ; of the discomforts of sleeping- 
coupes, of the hard cushions in the cars, of Roman 
dirt, Roman livery-stables, and Roman hotels ; she 
dragged the names of all the aristocratic acquaint- 
ances which she had made lately at Meran, Nice, 
and Biarritz, into the conversation, and asked, the 
next day being a holiday, to what church “one 
could go.” 

To this the choleric old general replied testily : 
“God is everywhere,” while Sempaly merely an- 
swered, with the gravest politeness: “Cardinal 

X is going to say mass in St. Peter’s to-morrow, 

and the music is very fine. I should advise you to 
go to St. Peter’s.” ’ 

“ Indeed? Will it really do to go to St. Peter’s 
on a holiday?” she asked. “ The company in those 
large churches is generally so mixed!” 

The old general was ashamed of these silly 
speeches, for the sake of her children, who were 
obliged to listen to them. “ Have you forgiven me 
by this time, Zinka?” he called out to the young 
girl across the table, in order to change the current 
of the conversation. 

“ As if I had had time to think of your pedantry,” 
said Zinka, blushing slightly ; it; was evidently un- 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 49 

pleasant to her to remember her little blunder. “ I 
have other troubles now.” 

“What are they, darling?” asked Stertzl, who 
took everything seriously, in a tone of sympathy. 

“ I have lost something,” she said with an air of 
sadness, which evidently concealed a jest. 

“ Not a four-leaved clover, or a medal blessed by 
the Pope, I hope?” asked the general. 

“ Oh, no ! something far more valuable. ” 

“Your pocketbook?” guessed the baroness in 
an irritated tone. But Zinka burst out laughing, 
and cried: “No, indeed, mamma — something 

much grander. . . . Can no one guess? ... I 
have lost Rome!” 

Hereupon Stertzl, who never understood his 
charming sister’s “crazy little jokes,” remarked: 
“That is quite beyond me!” 

Sempaly, however, said sympathizingly : “ I see, 
Fraulein ; the great disenchantment has come to 
you too!” and Zinka went on talking, like a per- 
son who is accustomed to being listened to. 

“ Since I have thought at all, I have dreamed of 
and longed for Rome. My Rome always seemed 
to me like a suburb of heaven, and this Rome is like 
a suburb of Paris ! My Rome was so beautiful, and 
this Rome is so ugly!” 

“Don’t talk sacrilege, Zinka,” said the general, 
who shared the traditional idolatry for Rome. 

“As a city, Rome is certainly not handsome,” 
remarked Stertzl in a matter-of-fact way; “it is 
merely interesting as an art-atlas with life-size 
4 


50 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


illustrations. However, you don’t know it yet. 
You have not yet looked at anything ” 

“But lodgings, you mean,” said Zinka, casting 
down her eyes with mischievous meekness. 

“It is dreadful,” complained the baroness; “we 
have been searching, for five days, without having 
been able to find anything suitable. Everywhere 
there is some objection : either the stairs are too 
dark, or the vestibule too shabby, or the drawing- 
room has only one entrance. ... or the servants’ 
rooms are. ...” 

“ Indeed, my poor Zinka,” exclaimed the general 
indignantly, interrupting the baroness, ” if you have 
really not seen anything of Rome yet except all 
the furnished lodgings on the Corso, then, to be 
sure, ...” 

“But I have seen something more than that,” 
cried Zinka merrily ; “ I have become thoroughly 
acquainted with Rome already,” 

“ In your dreams?” 

“No, yesterday, while mamma had her head- 
ache.” 

“Oh, that headache!” sighed the baroness, hold- 
ing her smelling-salts to her nose. “ I am a real 
martyr to it.” 

According to her ideas, it was stylish to have 
headaches, as well as to be a strict Roman Catholic. 

No one took any notice of her, however, except 
Sempaly, who, from politeness, looked sympathiz- 
ing, but immediately turned to Zinka with a ques- 
tion. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


51 


Yes, indeed, I know Rome quite well ! Only, 
ask cab-driver No. 1203 — he’ll tell you all about it. 
He drove me around yesterday for more than three 
hours. You can imagine that it was rather trying 
to have been in Rome for a whole week without 
having seen anything but furnished apartments. 
So I made the most of my time yesterday, and while 
mamma was in bed, I stole out — don’t look shocked 
again, uncle — I took my maid with me, and we only 
intended to wander about on foot with the help of 
the map. Of course we lost our way — cela va sans 
dire; and as we stood there, rather bewildered, each 
of us holding the map with one hand, we saw a cab- 
driver beckoning to us, like this, with his fore- 
finger. We got into the cab, and he asked where 
he should take us, and when I hesitated what to 
answer, he said — with oh, such a discreet, patroniz- 
ing expression, ‘The Signora wishes to see Rome?’ 
and then he drove us, always making small circles, 
through the whole city. My head became quite 
confused with all those sights of Rome. He showed 
me a great forest of broken columns, on the stumps 
of which small pieces of old gods and fragments 
of ancient temples were carefully heaped up, like 
Christmas presents for lovers of antiquity, 'll 
Campo Vaccmo, ’ he called that — I think it was the 
Forum. Then he showed me the palace of Beatrice 
Cenci, the Ghetto, the Theatre of Marcellus, the 
Temple of Vesta; and each time, when he had ex- 
plained one of these monuments to me, he would 
ask; ‘Am I not a conscientious driver? Many a 


52 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


one would only just take you from one building 
to another, and what do you see? Nothing but 
stones! But I say to you: that is the Coliseum, 
that is the Portico of Octavia, and the stones have 
a meaning at once!’ Then he set me down at the 
hotel, and took off his hat, and said: 'Now the 
signora knows Rome!’ ” 

The dessert had been served ; the baroness looked 
very much vexed. “I would request you,” she 
said*, as she rose from the table, “ in the first place, 
not to carry on conversations with cab-drivers in 
future, and, in the second, not to make use of a 
botta (Roman one-horse cab) when you go to drive. 
It is not proper. You never have the slightest tact.” 

Zinka, who was quite as sensitive as she was 
spoiled, changed color. 

“ Leave her alone, mother. Why should she not 
talk Italian a little and ride in a botta? ” said 
Stertzl, who wrangled with his mother from morn- 
ing till night. 

In the mean time, Sempaly made use of the mo- 
ment for whispering to Zinka: “ I can’t promise to 
entertain you as well as your cab-driver ; but if you 
will permit me, I should be very glad to help 
you recover your lost Rome.” 

"Are you well acquainted with the city?” asked 
Zinka, with naive incivility. 

" I am the valet-de-place of the complication fac- 
tory, ” he replied, laughing. " My only serious busi- 
ness consists in showing Rome to all the tran- 
sient Austrian tourists,” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


53 


The evening passed very cheerfully. The 
baroness made a few more foolish speeches, and 
Sempaly, with the most polite gravity, passed them 
over in silence. Altogether, he was irreproachable 
that evening. The baroness, altogether, was daz- 
zled by his “ unassuming manner. ” Not so Stertzl, 
who felt that it was only external, and nothing but 
an aristocratic trick. 

But the arrival of his little sister, his favorite, 
had put Stertzl into very good humor. He did, 
indeed, launch a few of his aphorisms against the 
clericals, and abused Roman society a little; but 
Zinka interrupted him each time with some of her 
graceful nonsense, and her small-talk made him 
forget everything else. 

Finally he asked her to sing a Moravian folk- 
song. She sat down at the hotel piano, and ac- 
companied herself. Her sweet, though weak and 
veiled voice had in it something quaint, almost 
mystical ; her singing was full of the dreamy sad- 
ness which characterizes the true Slavonic spirit. 

Stertzl, who was wont to yawn at the opera, lis- 
tened to her, leaning his head on his hand, with a 
kind of enthusiasm. 

In Sempaly, too, who, in spite of his Hungarian 
name, was a Moravian by birth, Zinka’s simple 
melodies awakened echoes of the pure, fresh senti- 
ments of his youth, which had been blotted out by 
the vortex of the world. When she had finished, he 
thanked her simply, but with deep feeling. 

Zinka had a temperament like April weather. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


54 

After drawing the tears to her hearers’ eyes, and her 
own as well, by her folk-songs, she suddenly con- 
ceived the idea of mischievously breaking out into 
a couplet of Lecocq’s, which she had heard Judic 
sing in Nice. 

The words of this couplet^ which Zinka rendered 
with so much self-satisfaction, were evidently 
Chaldaic to her, as far as her comprehension of 
them went, which was obvious to every sensible 
person. The baroness, however, was beside her- 
self with indignation. 

“Zinka!” she cried vehemently, “ I cannot com- 
prehend you ; what must these gentlemen think of 
you?” 

“Don’t trouble yourself about that, madame,” 
said the general. 

Zinka trembled ; her small, white face was quiver- 
ing with excitement. Stertzl, however, came to 
the rescue: “We have to make allowances for my 
little sister’s moods sometimes,” he said, turning to 
Sempaly; and then, passing his large, heavy hand 
very tenderly over Zinka’ s hair, he continued: 
“Don’t mind it, butterfly; but you are really a 
little too innocent for your age.” 

When, shortly after, Sempaly and the general 
left the Hotel de 1’ Europe together, the first words 
of the former were; “Explain to me, if you can, 
how it happens that, in spite of her silly mother, 
that little girl has remained so angelically pure, so 
— Botticelli-like !” 


CHAPTER IX. 


About this time a certain Bohemian or Polish 
mine was destroyed by some disaster caused by the 
elements; more than five hundred families were 
thrown out of employment by the catastrophe. 

Of course society immediately seized upon this 
opportunity to divert itself by brilliant charity- 
balls, to win decorations by mag’nificent pecuniary 
sacrifices, and to draw the attention of the world 
upon itself by various vehemently humane demon- 
strations. 

Countess Ilsenbergh, after due consideration of 
the matter, had arrived at the conviction that, as 
the two legations were prevented by deep mourning 
from indulging in any festive enterprises just at 
that time, it was her duty to set in motion some- 
thing of the kind. 

The apartments of Palazzo .... seemed ex- 
pressly made for a large fete. After much cog- 
itation it was decided to give the philanthropic 
undertaking a dramatic character. The pro- 
gramme was to consist of an operetta, a Proverbe*' 
by De Musset, and several tableaux vivants. The 
performance was to be followed by a collection. 

Countess Gandry displayed the most praise- 
worthy energy in the whole affair. She was on 
55 


THEi HAND OF DESTINV. 


56 

friendly terms with the Villa Medici — the French 
Academy in Rome ; she therefore took charge of the 
painting of the scenery, the artistic arrangement 
of the costumes, and made herself generally useful. 

Up to a certain time everything progressed suc- 
cessfully. The operetta (an unpublished work, of 
course, furnished by a Russian amateur genius 
who took pride in not being able to read a note 
of music) was soon cast. It contained only three 
characters, and gave occasion for a very pretty 
rococo masquerade, as well as for the introduction 
of piquant Parisian couplets. 

Mrs. Ferguson, who scorned no opportunity of 
powdering her hair and applying rouge and patches 
to her face, was to sing the soprano part. Cres- 
pigny declared his willingness to take the role of a 
husband or guardian in a night-cap and a flowery 
dressing-gown, and a young painter from the Villa 
Medici, who was always ready either to design or to 
don a tasteful costume, was invested with the part 
of the lover. 

Nor did the cast of the '' Pr over be'" offer any 
difficulties. But when the question of the arrange- 
ment of the tableaux arose, the whole affair came 
to a sudden stop. In the beginning, the ladies had 
of course been enthusiastically in favor of allowing 
their beauty to be admired under the advantageous 
circumstances presented by a tableau. The great 
number of those who offered their services pre- 
sented the first difficulties to the committee, which 
held daily debates at Countess Ilsenbergh’s resi- 


tHE hand of destiny. 


^7 


dence. Then various discussions and differences 
of opinion arose. The ladies did not approve of 
the choice of the pictures, condemned the costumes 
assigned to them as unbecoming, or the postures 
prescribed as not showing them favorably. Each 
one to whom a minor figure was proposed felt 
deeply offended; an acknowledged beauty, who 
was particularly proud of her left profile, would not 
for the world have exposed the right side of her 
face to the criticism of the public, etc., etc. 

And then, too — unfortunate embarrassment! — 
almost all the available male personages of the 
clique exhibited the most unconquerable repug- 
nance to “ridiculous masquerades,” and categor- 
ically refused the most insinuating invitations from 
the Ladies’ Committee. 

Sempaly, to whom the proposition had been 
made to represent a Roman emperor, would not 
hear of putting on pink tights and allowing himself 
to be crowned with the wreath of a Bacchant ; and 
Truyn had replied to the suggestion that he should 
don a periwig merely by a shrug of his shoulders. 

Siegburg — he was always called little Siegburg, 
although he measured nearly six feet — after de- 
fending himself very wittily for a while against the 
entreaties of the ladies, at last made up his mind 
goodnaturedly to make the harlequin in a rococo 
picture in which the Vulpini children were to take 
part ; and Stertzl agreed, though somewhat curtly, 
to represent the executioner in the Lady Jane Grey 
tableau after Delaroche. 


58 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


This latter tableau was to be the gem of the 
evening; Barillat had taken far more pains with 
it than with any of the others. The part of Lady 
Jane Grey was to be filled by a famous English 
beauty, Lady Henrietta Stair. 

But a few days before the performance, Lady 
Henrietta was taken ill with the measles. The 
managers were greatly embarrassed when the news 
of this misfortune reached them. That same even- 
ing the committee and all who were to take part 
in the tableaux were invited to a friendly cup 

of tea at the Palazzo , in order to discuss the 

matter. They appeared almost in full force. 
Stertzl, who was disgusted with all this “ charitable 
fuss,” as he called it, was the only one who sent a 
regret. 

Every lady secretly thought herself entitled to 
stand, or rather kneel for Lady Jane Grey; but 
Mrs. Ferguson was the first who gave words to 
her thoughts, and heroically offered to take Lady 
Henrietta’s place. 

To the surprise of all, Sempaly, who until then 
had shown his interest in the philanthropic work 
merely by the most withering sarcasms, and had 
proposed the Living Torches of Siemiradsky, or 
Makart’s Entry of Charles V. into Antwerp as paint- 
ings particularly adapted for representation — here 
interposed energetically. 

“Your readiness to make sacrifices grows more 
commendable every day, Mrs. Ferguson,” said he. 

“Dear me,” she replied naively, “what great 


The Hand of destiny. 59 

sacrifice is there in having an old modern dress 
made over into a new historical one?” 

“That is certainly no sacrifice,” was Sempaly's 
calm answer, “but it is a decided sacrifice for a 
lady to present herself in a character which is so 
utterly unsuited to her style as Lady Jane Grey is 
to yours.” 

Mrs. Ferguson smiled like a pretty little beast of 
prey. “ Ah, ” she cried, “ perhaps you find that 
I do not possess enough of the grdce touchante, 
about which Mr. Barillat always has so much to 
say.” 

“Quite as little as the grdce efficace,'' said Sem- 
paly gravely. 

While the ladies were excitedly debating with 
each other, Sempaly found an opportunity of whis- 
pering a word in Barillat 's ear. The latter gave 
a start, and was evidently pleased. 

He then approached Countess Ilsenbergh. “ I 
have another proposition to make, countess,” he 
said; “ I have thought of some one.” 

“Some newly imported American,” cried Ma- 
dame de Gandry, laughing, “or a model with suita- 
ble grdce and blonde hair.” 

“ The ladies may rest assured that I would never 
take the liberty of proposing a model to them,” 
protested Barillat. “No, no; the person I mean is 
an exceedingly charming young lady, Fraulein 
Stertzl. I had the honor of making her acquaint- 
ance night before last at Lady Julia Ellis’ — she is 
an Austrian ; you must have met her. ” 


6o 


HAND OF DEStiNV. 


“I have not had that pleasure,” said Countess 
Ilsenbergh stiffly. 

“Ah! the young lady does not suit you?” mur- 
mured Barillat, somewhat disconcerted. 

The Countess cleared her throat. 

''Mon DieuT' exclaimed Madame deGandry, irri- 
tated by the superciliousness of the countess, “ you 
really look at the matter too seriously. Why should 
not la petite Stertzl take part in our ta*hleaux? I 
have heard that in Vienna they even call upon ac- 
tors and actresses to assist them on occasions like 
this.” 

“That is quite another thing, ” observed Countess 
Ilsenbergh. 

Madame de Gandry shrugged her shoulders, turn- 
ing her attention to some other difflculty which had 
arisen, and Countess Ilsenbergh beckoned to her 
cousin Sempaly to join her. 

“ I am heartily tired of this whole business even 
now,” she cried as he approached her. “In Aus- 
tria I have taken part in charitable affairs often 
enough, and everything went on smoothly without 
trouble or annoyance — but here ” 

“Yes, with us in Austria everything is decid- 
edly better regulated,” he observed with warmth. 

“ People are so rude here — every one wants to 
play first violin,” said the countess. 

“ That is the consequence of the republican cur- 
rent prevalent here,” Sempaly observed. 

“And now, to crown all, this annoyance about 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


6l 


the Jane Grey picture. Why need Lady Henrietta 
choose just this time for having the measles?” 

“English women are always inconsiderate,” said 
Sempaly quite seriously. 

“Have you met that young Stertzl girl yet?” 
asked the countess. 

“I have.” 

“ How does she look?” 

“ How? She is very pretty.” 

“And otherwise?” 

“ Otherwise she appears very much like our young 
girls. It is really a remarkable freak of nature! 
They say she is very agreeable, too. Princess Vul- 
pini is quite delighted with her.” 

“ Indeed ! Barillat is bent on having her for Lady 
Jane Grey, and he may have his way then/’ cried 
the countess. “ If Marie Vulpini will bring Fraulein 
Stertzl to me, I shall not object.” 

“What, Fritzi? You want Fraulein Stertzl to 
act in your tableaux, and you don’t intend to invite 
her mother?” Sempaly replied, with a laugh. 

“ Of course I shall invite her to the performance, 
when I invite all the world and his wife, the whole 
of the plutocracy, and even the English clergy and 
the cosmopolitan artist crowd.” 

“ With their families, Fritzi? You are a wonder- 
ful woman, I must say!” 

“But the rehearsals are so exclusive,” remon- 
strated his cousin with a sigh. 

However^ the time was growing short, 


62 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“Well, then!” said Countess Ilsenbergh, resign- 
edly, and the next morning she politely called on 
Baroness Stertzl and her daughter for the purpose 
of asking Zinka to act in the tableau. 

As she had quite as much tact as pride, she soon 
succeeded in reconciling not only Zinka, but also 
Cecil, reserved and touchy though he was, to the 
fact that the young girl had in reality been invited 
only at the last moment, in a dilemma and as a 
make-shift, to take part in the performance. 

Cecil, however, never quite liked the idea of 
exhibiting his sister’s beauty in a tableau, and only 
submitted because he did not wish to spoil Zinka ’s 
pleasure, as she looked forward with childish de- 
light to playing “dumb comedy.” He idolized his 
little sister, and could refuse her nothing. 

The evening of the fete arrived. The perform- 
ance took place in an immense hall, the walls of 
which were almost entirely covered with mirrors. 
From the ceiling, which was decorated with frescoes 
and rather quaint gilded scroll-work, hung a row 
of wondrously beautiful Venetian chandeliers. ^ 

In spite of its vastness, the hall was crowded. 
The guests highest in rank sat upon an extra car- 
pet, in solitary grandeur, in front of the rest of the 
company, which was, unfortunately, rather mixed. 
Elegant and refined men leaned against the walls ; 
the whole hall resembled a sea of glistening silk 
and sparkling jewels. 

Princess Vulpini, who was helping Countess 
Ilsenbergh do the honors, hovered, graceful and 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


63 


smiling-, though rather pale and fatigued, on the 
borders of the crowd, and Countess Ilsenbergh her- 
self received her guests with the royal dignity 
which was so becoming to her on grand occa- 
sions. 

Few women knew how to wear their diamonds 
like Fritzi Ilsenbergh; even her haughty cousin 
Sempaly had to do her the justice to admit that. 

The grand success of the evening was not the 
“ Proverbe^ ” by De Musset, in which Madame de Gan- 
dry and the versatile Barillat vied with each other 
in the production of nicely shaded points exactly 
according to the traditions of the Theatre Frangais ; 
not the operetta, in which Mrs. Ferguson looked 
ravish ingly pretty, and sang the “ sentier convert ” 
most charmingly ; the success of the evening was 
not even the children's tableau, from out of which 
the little Vulpinis smiled like a nosegay of freshly 
plucked rose-buds. The grand success of the even- 
ing was the “ Beheading of Lady Jane Grey.” 

Stertzl’s face during this tableau was a tragedy. 
All the inner confusion of an executioner adoring 
his victim was to be read, in it. And Zinka! With 
a sad smile which seemed to bridge her way to 
heaven, her bearing full of holy resignation and 
yet touchingly child-like fear, she thoroughly per- 
sonified the poor guiltless creature, before whose 
loveliness the executioner casts down his eyes. 
A string-quartet played the Allegretto from Bee- 
thoven’s Seventh Symphony. The pathetic musical 
background enhanced the poetry of the whol^, 


64 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Softly, dreamily, the mournful allegretto vibrated 
through the hall, like a lullaby with which an angel 
sings to sleep a soul yet struggling with human 
sorrow, so that it may waken amid the peace of 
heaven. 

The Villa Medici, which had been invited in 
' cor pore, together with its director, so that it might 
give its opinion on the artistic effect of the tableaux, 
decided that this performance far surpassed all pre- 
vious representations of the painting. Countess 
Ilsenbergh, in view of its success, even forgot all 
the annoyances connected with it. 

After the collection, which had an exceedingly 
brilliant result, the majority of the guests took 
their leave. Ilsenbergh, with a dignified smile, a 
picture of feudal philanthropy, had expressed his 
thanks to all those who had taken part in the 
performance, and had presented the ladies with 
tasteful bouquets. The fete had lost its quasi 
official character, and assumed that of an intimate 
soiree. 

Zinka sat in one of the side-rooms, surrounded 
by a group of young Romans and Frenchmen. As 
she was one of those rare women who do not find 
the least pleasure in the attentions of men personally 
indifferent to them, she met the enthusiastic trans- 
ports of these young gentlemen with the coolest 
nonchalance. 

She had just asked for an ice, and Norina knelt 
as he presented it to her, and remained in that posi- 
tion while plying her with the most bombastic 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


65 


flatteries. Zinka, unaccustomed to such southern 
obtrusiveness, made some little pettish remark, 
which had no effect, when Sempaly joined them 
and cried, in the abrupt manner which he generally 
displayed toward young men : “ Do get up, Norina ; 
don’t you see that your homage is not appreciated?” 

The prince started up in annoyance. Sempaly 
drew an ottoman to Zinka’s side, and in five 
minutes had, as usual, completely monopolized 
her. 

“My cousin is very much indebted to you,” he 
said, in his singing voice. “You have saved the 
whole affair. To tell the truth, I am not very fond 
of such exhibitions in private life, but the Jane 
Grey tableau was really beautiful!” 

“ I liked the ^ Proverb e very much, too. Madame 
de Gandry’s acting was full of genius.” 

“ Bah, I am blunted against such genius,” he de- 
clared. 

“Indeed?” she replied with a laugh, “it seems 
to me that you are generally blasdP 

“What do you understand by being f ” he 
asked. 

“What do I understand by it? Why, that state 
of weariness of the heart and soul which is' the re- 
sult of an uninterrupted life of pleasure, and which 
is one of the characteristic features of a man or 
woman of fashion.” 

“ Hm,” mused Sempaly, “ something between ill- 
ness and affectation, you mean?” 

“Yes,” she replied, “in short, it is a weak dilu.- 
5 


66 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


tion of pessimism,* adapted to the use of fashionable 
society.” 

Sempaly gave her a searching look. ‘‘Your 
definition is brilliant,” he said. “I must make a 
note of it. But it does not apply to my state of 
mind ; I am not blas^. Nothing leaves me indif- 
ferent; that which is false, or merely superficially 
good or pretty, irritates me ; but when I meet with 
anything whatever that is beautiful, and noble, and 
genuine, no one can appreciate and admire it more 
than I.” 

In the mean time the prix de musique'' from 
the Villa Medici had seated himself at the piano, 
and, from a somewhat pretentious improvisation, 
had suddenly passed over into a waltz of Strauss. 
Countess Ilsenbergh m.ade no objection to a little 
dancing, and soon several couples were revolving 
under the glittering chandeliers. 

Sempaly rose. “May I have the pleasure?” he 
asked, slightly bowing to Zinka. They entered the 
ball-room together. 

Zinka was distinguished by the agreeable pe- 
culiarity of not growing red, but rather pale, while 
dancing. Her movements were not lively and 
springy, but dreamily gliding. She looked incom- 
parably lovely while waltzing. 

The pleasure taken in dancing by cadets and 
youthful lieutenants, merely for the sake of twirl- 

* Orig. “Weltschmerz ” (world-pain), an untranslatable ex- 
pression applied to the spirit pervading th§ \vritings of fleinrich 
HeiiiQ and hivS ^q1;ooJ,— 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


67 


ing around, had long ceased to exist for Sempaly. 
He danced only with persons in whom, he was 
specially interested. That was generally under- 
stood. 

“Hm,” said Siegburg, shaking his head, as he 
joined General Von Klinger, who was observing the 
handsome couple from a window-recess; “seems 
to me my match with Fraulein Stertzl is not going 
to amount to anything after all.” 

“Have you changed your mind?” asked the 
general dryly. 

“Not at all — on the contrary,” replied he; “but 
I fear my chances are very poor for the present. 
Don’t you think so?” 

He looked straight into the old gentleman’s eyes; 
the latter understood him and was silent. 

“She dances charmingly — I never saw a girl 
dance better. How she holds her head!” he mur- 
mured. Suddenly a merry light flashed through 
his drowsy eyes: “Do look at Fritzi’s face — such 
consternation ! A veritable Niobe 1” 


CHAPTER X. 


Sempaly grew more and more intimate with the 
Stertzls, was hand and glove with Cecil, did the 
honors of Rome for Zinka, and dined or lunched 
with the family two or three times a week. 

Since the fete at the Ilsenberghs’, Zinka had gone 
into society a great deal. She had become quite 
the fashion. The gentlemen were at hef feet every- 
where ; the ladies all wanted to hear heF sing folk- 
songs. She treated the gentlemen with great in- 
difference, and was extremely courteous to the 
ladies, particularly to those of whom no one else 
took any notice, which made her still more popular. 

Truyn’s little daughter, a graceful romp, who 
regularly gave warning to her maid three times a 
week, wanted, to learn everything, from Latin to 
aquarelle-painting, and could not agree with any 
of her teachers except Truyn himself, fairly wor- 
shipped Zinka, and, Avhen with her, was as sub- 
missive as a lamb. Princess Vulpini rejoiced at 
Zinka’s taming influence over her little niece, and 
called her young friend “a real trouvaille''; and 
Lady Julia Ellis, who had made the young girl’s ac- 
quaintance two years before, at Meran, was proud 
of having been the one to introduce her in Roman 

society, Whenever Baroness Stertzl was not able 
68 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


69 


to go out, Lady Julia was always ready to chaperone 
Zinka, and on her Wednesdays the latter assisted 
her in receiving her guests and pouring out tea. 

Countess Schalingen, the canoness, who had a pas- 
sion for painting, and was full of the sentimental 
love of art which the French call romance^ and 
which has not yet got beyond Winterhalter, pro- 
nounced Zinka “delicious,” made excursions with 
her, visited all the antiquarians of Rome in her 
company, and finally painted her for Princess Vul- 
pini on a hand-screen, with her head and bust 
wrapped in transparent flying drapery, rising out of 
the cup of a lily. 

Before a fortnight had passed, an American had 
made inquiries as to her ancestors, and handsome 
De Crespigny had asked about her dowry. Norina 
made love to her behind Madame de Gandry’s 
back, and the latter and Mrs. Ferguson paid her 
their homage by being madly jealous. 

But all this did not turn her head in the least, 
nor did it even astonish her. She had been thus 
spoilt from her childhood ; wherever she had shown 
herself until now, she had found friends. She was 
glad when people were kind to her; to tell the 
truth, however, it would have surprised her very 
much if this had not been the case. 

Sempaly had called her “ Botticelli-like,” but had 
applied that adjective merely to her inner nature. 
Outwardly Zinka had no trace of the narrow-chested 
loveliness of the “primitives.” She reminded one 
much more, in fact, of the pastel portraits of La- 


yo THE HAND OF DESTINY* 

tour, or even of a far later type of the eighteenth 
century — that of Princess Lamballe. She had never 
had the conventional pink-and-white complexion 
of a blonde, but even in her freshest youth was 
pale, with faint shadows under her eyes. Her nat- 
urally wavy hair varied in color from light-brown 
to red. A slight fluffy down softened the dividing- 
line between her hair and her forehead, without 
concealing the latter ; and this gave her face an ex- 
ceedingly open character. She was thin, without 
being angular, had long, slender arms, and narrow 
hands, which were at times rather red. Pier im- 
aginative temperament hovered between pensive 
dreaminess and merry exuberance of spirits ; her 
walk was mostly free and light; sometimes — how- 
ever, almost awkward, “ like that of an angel drag- 
ging its wings, ” Sempaly had once said. Her veiled 
and vibrating voice reminded one of the lower notes 
of an Amati violin. She was as impetuous as a boy, 
as graceful as a water-sprite, and as naive as a 
child of six — the almost crude naivete of a girl who 
has been brought up chiefly by men. 

All her views bore the stamp of a dreamy un- 
worldliness, an enthusiastic depth of feeling. 

She had had English and French governesses, 
and had even spent a year at the Convent of the 
Sacr^ Cceur. But the greatest influence on her 
education had been exerted by General Stertzl, her 
uncle and guardian — a man as intelligent as he 
was peculiar, who had an antipathy to sentimental 
girlish friendships, as well as to the so-called 


THE HAND OE DESTINY. 


n 


“ routine” which a girl acquires by going into so- 
ciety too early. Zinka owed it to him that even 
Countess Ilsenbergh once dropped a word in her 
favor by saying : “ One thing must be admitted : 

she is not in the least affected ; she is as natural as 
any of ‘our’ girls.” 


CHAPTER XL 


“Poor Coralie!” the baroness often said with a 
sigh, “ what a pity that she is not here. This is just 
what she would like!” 

“Yes,” Stertzl would reply, with his dry humor, 
“she has been too hasty.” 

Upon which the baroness would raise her eyes 
toward heaven. 

Said Coralie was the elder and favorite daughter 
of the baroness. An unrequited affection for some 
hard-hearted nobleman had led her, three years be- 
fore, to renounce the vanities of this world; but, 
as a worthy child of her mother, she had not for- 
gotten, even in her grief and her despair, to choose 
as a refuge a convent in which the nuns were 
divided into “ladies” and “sisters;” the children 
confided to their care played cache-cache, instead 
of hide-and-seek, and the store-room was called 
ddpense. 

“Poor Coralie!” sighed the baroness, and then 
sat down at her writing-table to indite letters about 
the attractions of her stay in Rome to all her 
friends and relatives, particularly to her sister, 
Baroness Wolnitzky. Madame Stertzl was a type 
of that category of society, especially peculiar to 
72 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 73 

Austria, which, no one knows why, is designated 
by the term of “onion-nobility.” 

The “onion-nobility,” as is well known, is a 
small branch of Austrian society, a step-sister of 
the aristocracy, a conglomeration of resigned noble 
“ cast horses” and pretentious civil “ remounts, ” 
who mutually make a convenience of each other. 
In these circles almost every man is a baron, ’’and 
every woman, without exception, a “baroness.” 

These people are generally poor, but “genteel” 
beyond conception. They reprove their children 
in bad French ; they talk “ society-German” through 
their nose with those of their own age in a drawl- 
ing jargon ; they give their guests nothing to eat, 
but seat them at tables adorned with family silver, 
and offer them the company of always the same old 
bachelor, who dyes his hair, and knows the “ Al- 
manach de Gotha” by heart. They are extremely 
well posted on “society” matters; they know 
exactly how many dozen of underclothing, etc., 
Fiffi X had in her trousseau, why the engage- 
ment between Steffi O and Mucki A has 

been broken off, etc., etc. 

At the present time, however, the “ onion-nobil- 
ity,” like many other excrescences of civilization, 
has been, for the greater part, swallowed up by 
liberal progress, i. e., by finance. 

Only a year ago, the baroness, standing by the 
grand staircase of the Opera House in Vienna, had 
watched the occupants of the first tier of boxes — 
at that time these were monopolized by the aris- 


^4 the hand of destiny. 

tocracy — as they passed in procession, in order to 
observe the details of the dresses of the nobility, 
and to listen to aristocratic gossip from aristocratic 
lips. 

In Rome she lived in the heart of society. Her 
bliss knew no bounds, and she made, day by day, 
the most edifying progress in higher exclusiveness. 
Countess Ilsenbergh was soon far behind her in that 
respect. But she was most amusing when, in '‘so- 
ciety,” she happened to meet any of her country- 
men or women who did not belong to the nobility. 

Just that winter, there was staying in Rome a 
certain Herr Brauer, a middle-aged fop, with a very 
handsome wife, whom he liked to have admired 
by young aristocrats. Furnished with several let- 
ters of introduction, he, with his charming partner, 
moved about with much self-satisfaction in the 
outer circles, so to speak on the boulevard ex- 
terieur of society, without entertaining a suspicion 
of the actual length of the Rue des Martyrs. The 
baroness never ceased to express her surprise that 
“ those people” were received anywhere. 

She was always dressed with extreme elegance, 
she gave exquisite little dinners, she had the most 
correct coupe, the most comfortable landau, her 
coachman the smoothest “ Roman emperor” face and 
the most conspicuous livery in the city. Her man- 
ners underwent a constant change, as she attempted 
to adopt in succession every peculiarity of all the 
lady-leaders of fashion in Rome. 

She was exceedingly unpopular in society, and in 


HAND OF DESTINV. 


consequence was dreadfully bored at the entertain- 
ments which she frequented. Moreover, she had 
an unceasing anxiety with regard to her social po- 
sition, and constantly suffered the torments of a per- 
son who tries to walk on tip-toe all the time. 

Her sole real pleasure during this time, which she 
always called the happiest of her life, consisted in 
writing the above-mentioned letters to her friends 
at home, and especially to her sister. Baroness Wol- 
nitzky, in Bohemia. She needed a public for her 
triumphs, and, like all small natures, she knew no 
greater enjoyment than to awaken envy. Some- 
times she would read her letters to Zinka, for she 
was very proud of her stilted style. Zinka felt 
somewat disturbed by these enthusiastic effusions, 
which regularly closed with the words : “ What a 
pity that you are not here. We should be delighted 
to see you !” 

“Take care, mamma,’' she would say; “they 
may take you at your word, and come down here.” 

“What an idea!” the baroness would answer 
placidly, folding her epistle ; “ you know very well 
that they have no money.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


A HANDFUL of cabins sunk deep in the ground, 
thatched roofs covered with moss, green stag- 
nant pools, here and there an old linden or a huge 
pear-tree, the crooked branches of which stand out 
black and hard against the pale-green winter sky: 
a pond, filled to the brink, on which three isolated 
geese are swimming about; a muddy road, along 
which passes a succession of creaking ploughs, 
drawn by rough, large-boned horses, a Bohemian 
village, and at its edge a dilapidated manor with 
a coat-of-arms over its warped portal, which is 
flanked on either side by a pig-sty and a dog-ken- 
nel. After the unpoetic Bohemian custom the 
chdteau — a square building with a shingle-covered 
mansard-roof — stands on one side of the farm- 
buildings, and the drawing-room windows even 
look directly out upon a huge dunghill, which 
several maid-servants are turning over with pitch- 
forks. This operation is being superintended by 
a short, thickset man in a weatherbeaten hunter’s 
hat and a hunting-jacket, from the quilted silk 
sleeves of which the cotton-wool is bursting out 
in countless places. 

He is smoking a pipe with a porcelain bowl, on 
which is painted an odalisque decorated with coins; 

76 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


77 


has a large, red face and purple ears ; looks anything 
but aristocratic, and, with a constant chuckle, is 
cracking jokes with the girls who are at work on 
the dunghill. 

It is Baron Wolnitzky, who, like countless others, 
had made himself quite prominent in the year 1848, 
and had since disappeared from the scene of the 
world’s history without leaving a trace. 

There is many a dry, fruitless tree, whose rusty 
foliage we see being drowsily smothered by the 
dust of September, of which we cannot believe that 
it once blossomed in the spring. 

Baron Wolnitzky reminded one of such a tree. 
In the spring of 1848 — the spring of a universal 
exuberance of blossoms — his soul too had bloomed. 
He had had patriotic ideas, and had written them 
down in rhyme, and his nation had honored him 
as a prophet — possibly because it needed an idol, 
perhaps because in those times of excitement it 
could no longer distinguish black from white. 

He wore, in those days, a handsome Old Slavonic 
costume, with sleeves of an exquisitely eccentric 
cut, married a patriotic maiden, who dressed as 
exclusively as possible in the Slavonic colors — blue, 
red, and white — and, from that period, had always 
two youths, likewise in Slavonic costume, and 
armed with halberds, standing guard at the gate of 
his residence. 

He was descended from a Polish family, which had 
emigrated several generations ago ; his connections 
were by no means aristocratic, and the property 


^8 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

which he possessed he even owed exclusively to his 
father, who had called himself simply Wolnitzky, 
and had earned it as a master-baker. 

In feudal times he would hardly have thought of 
bringing his doubtful patent of nobility to light 
once more, but in the era of liberty it might be of 
use to him. For the decoration of a democratic 
martyr such a document is quite good enough. 

During the June revolution he and his wife fled, 
in some picturesque disguise, first to Dresden, and 
from there to Switzerland, where they spent some 
time at a pension in Geneva. Here he allowed 
himself to be made much of as a political fugitive, 
and horrified the landlady by his tremendous 
appetite, returning, some time after, to Bohemia, 
where the year ’48, with its Slavonic party -leaders 
in their rich costumes, had been almost forgotten. 

He retired to his e:tate and turned philosopher. 

It is a well-known fact that philosophy has been, 
since the time of Diogenes, a haven of refuge for 
all shipwrecked pretensions. 

He walked about the country in his shirt-sleeves, 
and played cards with the peasants ; grew day by 
day more jolly, more common, more corpulent, and 
more of a glutton ; and, if he ever thought of any- 
thing, it was involuntarily, in some oppressive 
dream which followed upon too heavy a consump- 
tion of national dainties. 

His wife, a lady of robust figure, an excellent 
creature, who made herself rather ridiculous, bore, 
pn thp whole, a striking resemblangp to thp Gorman 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


79 


mother of the Regent of Orleans — that is to say, she 
had much sound common sense, and a sentimental 
nature ; had no tact whatever, and a want of deli- 
cacy which amounted to cynicism ; w^as very indis- 
creet, and a great talker. She had submitted, how- 
ever, without a murmur, to the prosaic turn matters 
had taken, and had had a number of children, the 
majority of whom died. Three remained to her: 
two sons, who, cutting loose from the family tradi- 
tions, served as infantry officers; and a daughter, 
in whom the romanticism of her nation flared up 
anew and with redoubled fanaticism. 

She had been christened Bohuslava, but her 
name was generally shortened to “Slava,” which 
sonorous word singifies “ fame” in the principal 
Slavonic tongues. Tall, like her mother, but thin, 
she had regular though somewhat monumental fea- 
tures, of which it was rumored that they resembled 
those of the Apollo of Belvedere. 

She had had many suitors ; but not one who met 
her wishes. About twenty-five years of age — hav- 
ing been born in 1 848 — she was passing this winter 
in the country unmarried and discontented, occupy- 
ing herself in studying serious books, and sometimes 
receiving the visits of a jaundiced young Pole, whose 
admiration of her was boundless, and for whom she 
herself owned to entertaining a slight and conde- 
scending fancy. 

Baron Wolnitzky is still standing by his dung- 
hill ; the great black farm-dog, which until now has 
been barking uninterruptedly in front of it§ ken- 


8o 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


nel, has at last, in order to change the situation a 
little, jumped to its top, from which exalted posi- 
•ition it continues to bark without ceasing. Every- 
thing is dripping with freshly melted snow. On 
all sides is heard the gurgling and splashing of 
running and falling water. The gray February 
twilight sinks upon the earth; everything looks 
dirty and cheerless. 

Outside, the badly greased wheels of some vehicle 
are heard creaking along the road. A cart loaded 
with manure comes jolting through the gate. 

“What’s the news in town? Have you got the 
paper?” asks the baron of the driver, who, with 
the ear-lappets of his round cap tied under his 
chin, and clad in a badly smelling sheepskin, ap- 
proaches him in order to kiss his elbow. “Yes, 
your honor, Herr Baron,” replies the man ; “ there’s 
a letter, too.” With this he pulls a package, tied 
up in a red-and-white handkerchief, from the pocket 
of his sheepskin. 

The baron examines the handwriting attentively. 
“Another letter from Rome,” he murmurs, chuck- 
ling to himself ; “ I must take it upstairs directly, 
so that the women-folks will have something to 
talk about. 

The “women-folks,” i.e., mother and daughter, 
were in the dining-room. At one end of the long 
table was laid a colored tea-cloth, on which stood, 
besides the tea-cups, etc., a kerosene lamp, and 
a bread-basket of rusty silver wire. The lamp 
smoked, and the whole table conveyed the same 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


8l 


cheerless, slovenly impression as the muddy village 
outside. 

The baroness, in a tan-colored wrapper, which j 
made her look more square than usual, without a 
cap, her scanty gray hair cut quite short, was 
searching for the keys of the pantry for the tenth 
time that day, on, under, and behind every piece 
of furniture, panting and puffing with the exertion 
as she did so. Bohuslava, meanwhile, sat at the 
table, bending over a volume of Mickiewicz, from 
which she read a poem aloud, with a harsh voice, 
and in somewhat rough Polish. A young man 
with a sharp-cut, yellow face and long black hair, 
wearing a Polish braided coat, a broad turn-down 
collar, and a brown and green changeable satin tie, 
sat beside her, and occasionally corrected her pro- 
nunciation of a word. It was her Polish admirer. 
He belonged to the species of teachers of languages 
with a romantic background, had his home in the 
nearest town, and was in the habit of coming out 
to the Wolnitzkys, who lived only a few stations 
off, every Saturday, to give Slava Polish lessons, 
and spend Sunday with the family. 

When the union between these two patriots, 
which had for some time been secretly agreed upon, 
would finally take place, depended upon the set- 
tling of a mysterious lawsuit with the Russian gov- 
ernment, in which the young Pole was engaged. 
His name was Vladimir de Matuschowsky, and his 
great-grandmother was a Potocka. When he was 
not giving lessons, bo broo4o4 pyor ponspir^cios, 

6 


82 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“ Is there nothing else for tea?” asked the baron, 
looking askance at the stale rolls in the bread- 
basket. 

“No, the dogs ate up the cake," anjswered the 
baroness with equanimity. She happened just then 
to be under the piano, on all fours, looking for the 
keys beneath the pedal. 

“You’ll get a stroke of apoplexy if you stay there 
much longer,” said Bohuslava crossly, but not anx- 
iously, and without making the slightest attempt 
to assist the old lady. 

At that moment a maid brought the much- 
sought-for keys on a bent and coppery britannia 
salver. 

“Well, thank goodness!” cried the baroness. 
“Where were they?” 

“In the dog-house, your honor, Frau Baroness; 
the puppies had carried them off.” 

In her love for dogs, too, the baroness resembled 
the famous Duchess of Orleans; she was always 
engaged in raising half a dozen pups, and the dog- 
house was known as a reservoir for all sorts of un- 
disco verable articles. 

“The little rascals!” she cried, smiling con- 
tentedly at the new proof of sportive ingenuity 
shown by her four-footed darlings. “ Give out the 
sugar, Clara.” 

“ I’ve got a surprise for you — a letter from Rome," 
growled the baron, pushing the epistle, which smelt 
at the same time of patchouly and of damp sheep- 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 83 

skin, toward kis wife, after wkich he seized the 
rum-kottle in order to flavor his tea. 

‘'Ah, from Rome!” cried the baroness; “that is 
splendid 1 Where are my spectacles ? Oh 1 where 
have I put them?” she cried, looking around for 
them and slapping and feeling of herself all over, 
which gave a singular unsteadiness to her enormous 
corpulency. “Oh, here — I’m sitting on them! 
Well — well, then, children,” and she began to read 
the letter aloud : 

“ Dear Lotti: You must not be offended at my 
not writing to you oftener” — [the baroness looked up 
astonished over her spectacles: ‘‘Oftener? Why, 
she never wrote me as often in her life as she 
has from Rome.”] — “but you must remember in 
what a whirl we are living. Every day we have a 
dinner, two parties, and a ball to go to. We are 
‘doing’ the Carnival with the cream of Roman 
society, and associate exclusively with them. To- 
morrow, we are going to dine with Princess Vul- 
pini — she was a Truyn, sister of Count Truyn 
of Rautschin; day after to-morrow there will be 

private theatricals at the ’s, etc., etc. Zinka 

has had an immense success. Among others Nicki 
Sempaly, brother of the prince, pays her such 
marked attentions ” 

Here Wolnitzky interrupted his wife : “ I should 
not have supposed that the old goose would be quite 


84 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


SO stupid!” he roared, and began to express his 
disapprobation by drumming on the flowery tea- 
cloth with his ten fingers. 

“ I can’t understand, either, how Clotilde can per- 
mit that!” cried the baroness; “and still less do I 
understand Cecil.” 

“ I’ll give you a piece of good advice, Lottinka,” 
said the baron, ironically: “go down to Rome and 
bring them to reason.” 

“With the greatest pleasure,” replied the bar- 
oness, taking this sarcastic remark quite seriously; 
“but, unfortunately, we have not the money.” 

Upon this the letter was read to the end. Like 
all epistles from Baroness Stertzl to her sister 
Wolnitzky, it closed with: “What a pity that 
you are not here — we should be delighted to see 
you!” 

The meal was over; the waiting-maid cleared 
away the tea-things, noisily rattling the cups and 
moving the chairs about; the baron withdrew, in 
order to play “bulka” with the peasants at the 
village-tavern ; the others remained thoughtful and 
silent. 

“I must confess I should like to go to Rome,” 
said the baroness, as, with both hands, she brushed 
the bread-crumbs from her lap on to the floor; 
“ and it would be quite pleasant to have some re- 
lations there, though I don’t care in the least for 
their grand acquaintances.” 

“I don’t see why we should keep aloof from so- 
ciety if wc were Q^ce there,” cried Slava angrily. 


The iiANt) OF bESTiNV. 


85 


‘‘Well, you could join them, you know,” said her 
mother in a soothing tone, for she stood in great 
awe of her daughter : “ But I should prefer to stay 

at home; for, voyez vous, mon Vladimir,” she 
continued, turning condescendingly to her future 
son-in-law, “I don’t feel at ease in company. If 
I can’t put on my slippers in the evening ” 

'' Mais, mamanr' exclaimed Slava, quite beside 
herself, vous etes d' une inconvenance!'" 

The baroness stopped short, rather intimidated. 
All were silent. Not a sound was heard in the 
whole room save the crackling of the fire in the 
great greenish tile-stove, and the snoring of the 
old hound which was sleeping on the border of his 
mistress’ wrapper. 

“If we could only get rid of the Bernini,” mur- 
mured the baroness, taking up the thread anew. 
The Bernini was a bust of Apollo, an heirloom de- 
scended to the baroness from her mother’s family — 
reputedly a free copy by Bernini of the Belvedere 
Apollo. Every time that the Wolnitzky family 
found itself in a financial crisis, the “ Bernini” was 
sent to a different art-dealer, from whom, after a cer- 
tain time, it regularly came back unsold. A few 
days ago, this much-travelled Apollo — he had been 
in New York, London, and St. Petersburg — had 
returned from a year’s visit at Meyer’s in Berlin. 

“ Tiens, Vladimir, you have not yet seen it,” cried 
Slava; “ I must show you the bust.” 

“ Is it the head to which you are said to bear such 
a striking resemblance ? If so, it will interest me 


86 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


extremely,” exclaimed the young Pole, with a burn- 
ing glance at handsome Slava. 

“Take the lamp; the bust is in the drawing- 
room.” 

Carrying the lamp in advance of the two ladies, 
Vladimir escorted them to the drawing-room, a 
large, scantily furnished apartment, which was 
dusted only once a month. There, in a corner, on 
a marble pedestal, stood the bust of the beautiful 
god, evidently a copy of the Belvedere Apollo; 
but whether it was by Bernini was, to say the 
least, doubtful. 

“The resemblance is, indeed, striking,” cried 
Vladimir in ecstasy, looking alternately at the bust 
and at his fiancee. “Oh, it is a masterpiece; you 
ought never to let it go!” 

“ Well, I must say I should like very much to go 
to Rome,” the baroness repeated, with a sigh. 

Slava merely bit her lips in vexation. 


CHAPTER Xni. 


“And what shall we do to-morrow?” asked Sem- 
paly of Zinka almost every evening, when he met 
her in society, invariably radiant and charming. 
He had made it his task to help her find her “lost” 
Rome again, and to this task he devoted himself 
with an assiduity which was worthy of all admira- 
tion. 

The disappointment which Zinka had experienced 
when, under the guidance of her loquacious cab- 
driver, she had had her first view of the ruins of the 
Imperial City, is a very common one. Almost every 
one feels it when, his head furnished with all the 
Rome-mysticism stowed away in modern litera- 
ture, he sees for the first time those wondrous relics 
so closely penned in between bare, dirty, common- 
place houses. And the disappointment is all the 
greater for those who come to Rome after spending 
some time in Venice or Verona. Rome has noth- 
ing of the seductive loveliness of the cities of 
Northern Italy. The architecture is heavy and 
gloomy, and the coloring in winter mostly an effect- 
less mixture of an insipid gray and a dull, bluish 
green, reminding one rather of a delicately-tinted 
aquarelle than of a richly colored oil-painting. One 
longs in vain for the lagoons, glistening with gold 
37 


88 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. j 

and azure, the fantastic stone lace- work of Venice, | 
for the half-effaced frescos and the sunny amber ‘ 
halo of Verona. 

“ Rome, after the cities of Northern Italy, affects 
us like a grand choral of Handel after a couple of 
lovely nocturnes of Chopin,” said Sempaly to Zinka 
one day. “ The first impression is annihilating ; in 
time, however, one tires of the nocturnes, but never 
of the choral!” 

To this Zinka replied: “The choral is over- 
powered by so much grinding-organ music that I 
have great difficulty in hearing its tones at all.” 

But Sempaly answered with a laugh: “We’ll 
talk about this again a fortnight hence.” 

In a fortnight Zinka threw two soldi into the 
Fontana di Trevi, to make sure of not being in 
Rome for the last time, and excelled even General 
Klinger, romantic though he was, in her enthusi- 
asm for the City of the Caesars. 

Sempaly had honestly contributed to her conver- 
sion. There could be nothing more entertaining 
and stimulating than to wander about with him 
among the nooks and corners of the beautiful City 
of Ruins. He was constantly remembering some 
new and curious object which he must needs show 
Zinka — now an artistic old basso-relievo, which had 
been pasted up on an orange-colored house directly 
over a tobacco-shop ; now a marble heathen divinity 
in the court of some convent, on which the at- 
tempt had been made to attach an angel’s wings to 
its shoulders. He would ride far out into the Cam- 


THfi HAN13 of DEStiNV. 


89 

pagna with her, and show her picturesque nooks in 
Trastevere. With reckless irony, he would attach 
an amusing, mocking remark to the most sacred ob- 
jects, The halls of the Vatican, peopled by statues, 
in which the liberal Vicarage of Christ offers a 
refuge to pensioned heathendom, he called a Re- 
treat for the gods ; to the cathedral of St. Peter, 
known as “ Az parocchia dei forestieri^''"^ he gave the 
name of the Catholic Grand Hotel. 

At every sarcophagus transformed into a fountain, 
at every fragment of a bas-relief or picturesque 
heap of rubbish he would recall some characteris- 
tic historical event, now comic, now affecting, or 
would sometimes even invent one ; and yet he never 
gave the impression that he was lecturing. 

He had an exceedingly unassuming way of tell- 
ing anecdotes — merely sketching them, but making 
them none the less striking. He never handed 
them about on a salver, with pretentious prolixity, 
but invariably dropped them negligently, as it were, 
from his pockets. 

His knowledge of art was not very deep ; but his 
artistic taste, like all his instincts, was remarkably 
subtle. 

His information, however, on all subjects, was 
of the most desultory kind, and, as Charles Lamb 
has expressed it, no piece of his mental wardrobe 
was whole. But he draped himself in the rags 
of his knowledge, without even attempting to con- 
ceal their rents, with the most defiant grace. 

* The parish of the strangers. — T r. 


go the hand of DESTINV. 

Often Truyn and his little daughter would take 
part in these expeditions, and sometimes Cecil; 
but the latter only on days when his mother re- 
mained at home. His behavior during this peri- 
patetic sestheticism, as he called their walks, was 
exceedingly characteristic of his whole nature. 

Rather silent, and, as always, observing keenly, 
he walked along beside, or a little behind, Sempaly 
and Zinka. 

From time to time he would dryly correct the 
dates of the former, to which Sempaly submitted 
with the most sublime indifference, and for which 
he returned thanks each time with royal courtesy — 
never without lifting his hat. Stertzl cared only 
for the vigorous renaissance-classists. The primi- 
tives, which Zinka loved, he smiled at as ecstatic 
caricatures. Guido Reni, the Italian Greuze, the 
Chopin among painters, for whom Sempaly had a 
small weakness, was actually repulsive to him. He 
declared that the head-dress of Beatrice Cenci was 
nothing but a wet bandage, and the whole picture 
a mere study, which Guido had probably painted 
after some insane woman in a madhouse. The 
somewhat mystic and enthusiastic phraseology 
which Zinka sometimes made use of in speaking of 
her favorite antiquities and works of art he smiled 
at in silence, but always good-naturedly. In reality, 
he despised all extravagant demonstrations of feel- 
ing, looking upon them as sentimentalism and af- 
fectation. 

To his sister alone he showed himself very in- 


THE HAND OE DESTINY. 


91 

dulgent, and when, while looking at a Francia, the 
tears would start to her eyes, or when she grew 
pale and quoted Shelley in speaking of Leonardo’s 
Medusa — in Florence — ^he would at the most shrug 
his shoulders, and say, as he pulled her by the ear: 
“Zinka, you’re crazy!” 

In his sister, everything pleased him — even her 
want of common sense. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


The baroness had at length found lodgings which 
corresponded “approximately” to her wishes — a 
small palazzo on one of the side-streets of the Corso, 
“ tastelessly furnished, indeed, but otherwise quite 
nice.” 

The “ Palazetto M — ” was a jewel in its way, with 
a plain, noble fagade in renaissance style, and a court 
surrounded by arcades, in the middle of which, 
among red camellias, plashed a fountain. Several 
badly damaged statues stood about, among others 
a wounded Amazon, celebrated for its beauty, at the 
feet of which a rose-bush was blooming. 

Zinka found this Amazon extremely picturesque, 
and had sketched it in her album from the most 
varied points of view, without ever comprehending 
the warning sadness of its glance. Poor Zinka! 
She had looked into the sun — she was blind. 

How could Cecil permit this intercourse, growing 
more and more intimate day by day, between Sem- 
paly and his sister? 

Sempaly’s older brother, Prince Sempaly, had 
been married ten years, but was childless. In con- 
sequence, the attache, as heir presumptive to the 
estate, was in duty bound to marry a wife who was 
his equal in rank. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


93 


Did not Stertzl know this ? 

He knew it, but he did not care about it. He did 
not deceive himself in the least with regard to the 
fact that the marriage of a girl who was not noble 
to a Count Sempaly was not a daily occurrence ; in 
fact, he would not have wished it to be so. He 
was no democrat, but his nature was originally a 
strangely conservative, old-fashioned one, equally 
far from cringing and from jealousy of caste. 

That Sempaly should marry any other girl, not 
of the nobility, would certainly have seemed to 
him preposterous. 

But Zinka — Zinka, she was something quite un- 
common. He idolized her as only strong, elder 
brothers can idolize weak, much younger sisters. 
There was no social position of which he did not 
consider her worthy. 

And when he saw Sempaly smiling down so ten- 
derly, and at the same time so reverently, on his 
darling “butterfly” — this was Stertzl’s name for 
Zinka — he rejoiced in his little sister’s happiness, 
and had no doubt of its fulfilment. 


CHAPTER XV. 


ZiNKA was not romantic. For a long time no 
trace of a deeper feeling betrayed itself in her in- 
tercourse with Sempaly. One merry word chased 
the other, and from her eyes flashed the most mis- 
chievous archness. But by degrees a change came 
over her. Her whole manner grew softer and more 
tender, the sweetest melancholy crept even into 
her archness, and when she laughed, the tears often 
glistened in her eyes. Sempaly’s visits at the Pal- 
azetto grew irregular. Sometimes he would stay 
away two or three days; then again he would 
make his appearance as early as twelve o’clock, 
cheerily invite himself to lunch, go to drive with 
the ladies, accept their invitation to an unceremoni- 
ous family dinner, and if Zinka happened to look 
pale and depressed, would surpass himself in deli- 
cate attentions and thoughtful consideration, in 
order to call a cheerful smile to her lips. At times 
he assumed a melancholy mien — told her of his 
loveless youth, and allowed her to pity him. He 
told her of his elder brother, spoke of his many 
excellent qualities, and closed, as he shrugged his 
shoulders, with: ‘‘Yes, he is a splendid fellow, 
but — he has his peculiarities!” 

When Zinka inquired into the particular nature 
of these peculiarities, he merely sighed. Some^ 
94 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


95 


times he would add : “ Well, I hope you will make 
his acquaintance one of these days, then you can 
judge for yourself.” 

Such things he always said in rather a dejected 
tone, and seemed afterward to regret having uttered 
them. Often, too, he v/ould speak of some painting 
in the Sempaly Gallery in Vienna, or of some other 
rare treasure in the possession of his family, and 
remark that he was looking forward with great 
pleasure to showing them to Zinka. 

He liked best to tell her about Erzburg ; of this 
old castle, which had served the Sempalys for gen- 
erations as a summer residence, he was particularly 
fond. In. other respects he was totally free from 
family blindness. He coolly called Sempaly Pal- 
ace an unhealthy barrack, abused the Sempaly 
horse-breeding, made sport of the Sempaly family 
nose, and praised mockingly only the legendary 
Sempaly Tokay wine ; but when he began to speak 
about Erzburg, he grew quite enthusiastic. 

Of the Asiatic luxury with which a part of the 
castle is furnished, though not always tastefully, 
he never spoke; altogether, he told Zinka more 
about the deficiencies of Erzburg than of its ex- 
cellences — but in such a tender, deprecating tone! 
Pie described the great bare rooms in which for 
years he had watched for the White Lady, half in 
longing, half in fear; he told of the melancholy 
voice of the weathercock, of the rococo statues in 
the park, and of the sadly murmuring ponds strewn 
with pale water-lilies, 


96 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


He admitted that those statues, affected in style 
as they were, had no artistic value; that those 
shallow ponds were quite unhealthy. But at the 
same time there glistened in his eyes, otherwise 
so full of mockery, an expression almost devout. 
Once, when Zinka had grown quite melancholy 
over his different descriptions, he took her hand 
and pressed it tenderly to his lips. “You must 
learn to love Erzburg," he murmured. 

His manner toward Zinka was that of a man who 
has quite made up his mind to the step which he 
intends to take, but who for the moment sees no 
possibility of openly wooing the girl, whom, in his 
inmost heart, he already looks upon as his be- 
trothed. 

What was his aim in acting thus ? What was he 
thinking of all this time,^ 

I fancy he was thinking of nothing at all. He 
was just giving himself up to his inclinations. 
There are such sybaritic, selfish people, who allow 
themselves to drift on the stream of life, and dis- 
dain the exertion of giving their little bark any 
particular direction ; mostly very happily organized, 
they reach some haven, without having met with 
any serious disaster by the way, and when, while 
gliding along on their passive, egoistic course, 
always smiling, always good-natured, they have run 
down some one else’s ship of life, they cry, in their 
pernicious amiability, “Pardon me!” and remain 
firmly convinced that the accident was caused by 
gh^nce, and not by their own c^relQgsne^^, 


CHAPTER XVI. 


It was toward the end of February, shortly be- 
fore the close of the Carnival. One day Truyn, 
who, with his young daughter, was about to call for 
Zinka to take a drive, saw standing in front of the 
Palazetto a cab with a gentleman’s valise upon it. 
Stertzl’s valet, a genteel-looking young man with 
hair parted in the middle, closely shaven upper lip, 
short side-whiskers, and an imposing fob-chain, 
was condescendingly exchanging a few remarks 
with the driver, and sleepily blinking at the sun- 
shine. 

The drawing-room, which Truyn and his 
daughter entered unannounced, was filled with 
a whitish-blue light, in which countless motes were 
dancing, shining in all the colors of the rainbov/ ; 
in the middle of the room stood Zinka, resting both 
hands on a table and leaning over a magnificent 
basket of flowers. The rather quaint grace of her 
attitude, the elegant outlines of her delicate 
shoulders and bust, the love so charmingly por- 
trayed in the smiling emotion which lit her sweet 
face, and withal the soft drapery of her lightly 
trailing dress, all these were engraved on Truyn ’s 
memory forever, A sunbeam played its brightest 
7 97 


98 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


mischief in her hair, and around her whole figure 
there was a halo of sweet, fervent spring rapture. 

The basket of flowers was, indeed, a masterpiece 
— a blooming capriccioso of lilies of the valley, gar- 
denias, snowdrops, and blush-roses which seemed 
wafted together by. romping spring breezes. 

Stertzl, a pleased smile on his face, stood beside 
his sister the baroness, a picture of affected as- 
tonishment, a little farther off, with a visiting-card 
in her hand. Neither the brother nor the sister — 
he absorbed in the contemplation of Zinka, she in 
that of the flowers — had heard Truyn enter the 
room. Only the baroness had cried “Come in!” 
in answer to his knock, and now extended the tips 
of her fingers to him, as, with a motion toward the 
fragrant basket, she lisped: “Just see what extrav- 
agance !” 

At this Zinka looked up and gave him a hearty 
welcome, in which Stertzl joined. 

“It is a folly, a sin!” sighed the baroness anew; 
“ such a basket of flowers costs a fortune — a single 
gardenia is worth. ...” 

Zinka pushed forward her under-lip in vexation, 
and Stertzl, with dry humor, interposed: “Don’t 
disturb Zinka’s illusions, mamma; for her that bas- 
ket fell down from heaven. She wouldn’t listen 
if you told her that, after all, it was bought, like 
other flower-baskets, in the Via Condotti or in 
the Babuino. What do you say, count? vSempaly 
sent her this to console her a little for her brother’s 
absence. The reason is a comical one : always fine 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


99 


speeches at hand, eh? I don’t think you will miss 
me very much for a few days, child?” He put 
his hand under her chin affectionately. 

“Where are you going so suddenly?” asked 
Truyn very gravely. 

“To Naples. Franz Arnsperg has telegraphed 
to me, asking me to meet him there. He has been 
transferred from Constantinople to Paris; he is a 
very good friend of mine, and is going round by 
way of Naples on my account,” replied Stertzl. 

“ The Arnsperg-Meiringens, you know they have 
estates in our neighborhood,” said the baroness in 
explanation. 

Stertzl, who was well aware that Truyn would 
be likely to know much more about the Arnsperg- 
Meiringens than his mother, became embarrassed 
and irritated, as usual, at every word which she 
said. 

He kissed her hand for good-by, however, and 
then turned to his sister. 

“ God keep you, butterfly ; write me a few lines ; 
or is that asking too much?” Then he kissed her 
and said in a low tone : “ See that your eyes are as 
bright as now when I come back.” 

Truyn, who accompanied Stertzl to his carriage, 
looked very grave. He, as well as General Von 
Klinger, had observed Sempaly’s conduct with great 
inquietude. Both were thoroughly acquainted with 
his sensitive temperament — so susceptible to mo- 
mentary impressions. But if Truyn had until 


100 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


now omitted to make any remark on the subject to 
Sempaly, it was because he foresaw that by so do- 
ing he would only irritate and aggravate him, with- 
out accomplishing any serious result; and if the 
general could not make up his mind to take the 
bandage from Stertzl’s blinded eyes, the reason 
was that he, like countless other people, suffered 
from a profound disinclination to interfere in mat- . 
ters which did not concern him. The fear of com- 
mitting an indiscretion is the only kind of coward- _ 
ice which is looked upon by society as meritorious. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


It is Shrove Tuesday. The horse of the most 
ramshackle botta wears a rosette behind its ears to- 
day, although, during the hours of the Carnival, 
one-horse cabs are treated as pariahs, and for- 
bidden to drive on the Corso. Two-horse vehicles 
are decorated with garlands of flowers, and their 
horses bear bunches of feathers on their heads. 
The Piazza di Spagna is crowded with venders of 
flowers and moccoli, as well as with foreigners from 
all parts of the world, who drive bargains with the 
former energetically. 

You see innumerable baskets filled with violets, 
roses, anemones, gilliflowers, and then again other 
baskets with indescribable greenish-gray bundles 
of herbs. Carnival ammunition, which have been 
doing service for three days, and remind one of 
nothing in the world but the bundles of twigs which 
are used in some countries for scrubbing the floors. 

The venders of coral and of tortoise-shell goods 
call to the passers-by, “ Buy, oh buy, b Carnevale! ” 
and on the side-alleys — for from the principal 
streets and squares misery is banished to-day — 
the beggars crowd around the passers-by in greater 
numbers than at other times, with their mournful 
cry of Muojo di fame! ” 


lOI 


llAND OF DESTINV. 


ioi 

The whole Corso, on this day, wears for the last 
time its gorgeous Carnival attire. From every 
balcony flutters a gay drapery, countless stagings 
have been erected, and all the window-sills are 
decorated, some with colored cambric, some with 
hangings of brocade shot with gold. 

Thursday, Saturday, and Monday, Zinka and 
Gabrielle have driven up and down the Corso with 
Count Truyn indefatigably and for hours, and have 
thrown flowers to all their acquaintances and to 
many strangers. To-day they have concluded to 
view the closing scenes from a "window of Palazzo 
Vulpini, as the Carnival grows rather too stormy 
toward its end. 

Every one who lives on the Corso takes advan- 
tage of the opportunity of paying off long-deferred 
debts of invitation, and offers the use of a window 
to as many of his acquaintances as he can accom- 
modate. 

At Princess Vulpini’s a numerous company is 
assembled, consisting chiefly of Italian relatives of 
the prince. Mesdames Ferguson and Gandry have 
invited themselves, and Zinka and Gabrielle Truyn, 
as has been remarked, are also to join the party. 
The baroness has “ tic-douloureux” — which pre- 
vents her from going out, and which no one re- 
grets. At six o’clock, before the battle of the 
moccoli has commenced, the ladies and gentlemen 
assembled are to repair to the so-called ''Falcone,'' 
a specially Roman restaurant, although they could 
really dine much better and more comfortably at 


THE HAND OE DESTINY. 


m 


home. From there, it is agreed, they will go to 
the masked-ball at the Teatro Costanzi. This 
truly Roman Carnival programme has been ar- 
ranged by Principe Vulpini, chiefly in honor of 
Countess Schalingen, who is greatly interested in 
the “local coloring” of Rome, and is enchanted 
with the plan. The princess is resigned ; she takes 
no interest in the Roman local coloring, and is very 
suspicious of Italian national cookery and masquer- 
ade jokes. 

Three o'clock! Baskets of flowers as well as 
whole boxes full of pretty little honbonnieres stand 
in readiness invitingly in all the windows. 

The little Vulpinis, who are to occupy the large 
double window in the middle of the main reception 
hall, have just been brought in by their timid Eng- 
lish governess in black silk. They hop about on 
one leg, pull each other’s hair, and the like, in 
their impatience and happy anticipation. When 
the governess reproves them in a low voice for 
these misdemeanors, the eldest replies, in remon- 
strance, '' Ma / Carnevale! '' upon which all the 
guests laugh, and the governess is silent. All are 
assembled. 

Mesdames de Gandry and Ferguson both look 
very pretty and picturesque ; the former wears a fez ; 
the latter has gracefully draped an Oriental shawl 
woven with gold about her head in honor of the 
Carnival, which permits becoming eccentricities of 
toilet and makes war on conventional head-cover- 
ings. 


104 the hand of destinV. 

From the windows into the carriages, from the 
carriages to the windows, fly the fragrant projec- 
tiles, small bo7tbonnieres from Spillman and -Nazzari 
whiz between them, and tiny, gay-colored scraps of 
paper, softly fanned, tremble through the air like 
colored snow. 

From the Piazza di Venezia comes the din of a 
noisy military band. The processions of maskers 
mingle with the carriages. 

One of the most animated windows on the Corso 
is, doubtless, the children’s window in the Palazzo 
Vulpini. Zinka stands in the midst of the little 
group, the superintendence of which she has under- 
taken at the special entreaties of the tiny folk, who 
are very much attached to her. 

She vies with Gabrielle in laughter and joyous 
exclamations, and in the midst of her own pleasure 
still finds time to pay the timid English governess 
all sorts of little attentions, and pin a pretty lit- 
tle bunch of lilies of the valley to the bosom of her 
black silk dress, which smells of camphor. 

What naturally interests the children most of all is 
Norina’s drag, because they are on friendly terms, 
not only with the prince himself, who is driving, 
but with all the gentlemen on the coach — Truyn, 
Siegburg, Sempaly. Whenever the drag, drawn by 
four cream-colored horses, passes by, the little Vul- 
pinis jump for joy, and all raise their shrill voices 
at once, so that it sounds like the twittering in a 
large bird-cage ; and the gentlemen bow, laughing, 
and with gallant skill throw countless nosegays 


Tthe hand of destiny. 




into the windows of the Palazzo Vulpini. But the 
fairest of the gifts of flowers, fall, without question, 
to Zinka’s share this day. The floor around her is 
strewn with gilliflowers, violets, and roses. In her 
hand she holds a large bunch of the latter. It was 
Sempaly who threw it. “Oh, oh!” says Madame 
de Gandry, withdrawing from her window to rest a 
while from the fatiguing scene, and refresh herself 
with a glass of wine. “ Ah, mademoiselle,” she 
cries, scanning the superabundance of flowers 
heaped up around Zinka with envious glances, “ you 
have been, feted like a prima-donna!” 

Zinka nods. Then, bending with humorous pity 
over her hat, which the impetuosity of the Carni- 
val had torn from her head, she says, restoring or- 
der to the feathers upon it, “ My poor hat will be 
glad when Ash Wednesday comes!” 

“Charming, Marie — wsuch a Roman Carnival is 
charming! — a never-to-be-forgotten scene!” cries 
Countess Schalingen, likewise retiring into the 
salon. A true Austrian nature, she is ever ready 
for enthusiasm. 

“Bah!” replies the Principe testily; “since the 
new government has come in, no one takes part in 
our Carnival but foreigners and gamins. ” 

The '' Berber^' have dashed past, the endless 
procession has begun anew, but without exciting 
particular interest. The crowd in the street is 
diminishing, and Sempaly, Truyn, Norina, Sieg- 
burg, and the general have, by previous appoint- 


MAND of 


io6 

ment, come to the Palazzo Vulpini to accompany 
the ladies to the Falcone. 

The children have been kissed and sent away 
to their dinner. Gabrielle shed a few tears at 
not being allowed to join the grown people, and 
Truyn is rather unhappy at the discontent of his 
little comrade. Zinka offered to stay with the 
children to console her friend Gabrielle, but this 
was not permitted. 

“ There would be too many who would wish to 
follow your example," said Princess Vulpini, rather 
out of sorts, for this expedition to a Roman res- 
taurant is growing more and more distasteful to 
her. 

They have agreed to go on foot, and are prepar- 
ing for the start. Thanks to the long discussions 
which have taken place, they have missed the real 
lull of the Carnival, the time preceding the battle 
of the moccoli. When the little company reaches 
the street, the crowd, which had thinned consider- 
ably, is again increasing. A gray veil seems to 
sink down from heaven, twilight is beginning. 
The gay combustible draperies have been taken 
down from windows and balconies; the Carnival 
is doffing its ball-dress. The first of the little 
reddish flames glisten like fire-flies in the dusk, and 
are immediately bombarded with a hail-storm of 
stony confetti and bunches of herbs, mostly picked 
up in the street. “ Fuori, fuori ! " resounds mo- 
notonously ; then again, “ Senza moccolo vergogna! 

The death-agony of the Carnival has begun. 


HANb Of bEStlNV. 


10 ^ 

The Austrians do not like the situation in the 
company of ladies, whom they can neither guard 
from the pressure of the crowd nor render deaf 
to the very low jests of the populace. 

At last they have worked their way out of the 
Corso, and have lost each other in the dark side- 
streets. Some have gone by way of the Via Mad- 
dalena, the others over the Piazza della Rotonda, 
and have finally reached the Falcone. The dress 
of the ladies shows the effects of the crowd. Prin- 
cess Vulpini looks unhappy. 

The Falcone is a restaurant without the slight- 
est pretensions, where the waiters wear white jack- 
ets instead of dress-coats. The prices are low, 
the ''risotto' is famous. Vulpini orders an Italian 
dinner to be served in one of the upper rooms. 
Suddenly Truyn exclaims, in an anxious tone: 
“Why, where are Zinka and Sempaly?” 

“They have probably lost time in talking,” says 
Madame de Gandry, with a slight curl of the lip, as 
she leans back in her chair and takes off her gloves ; 
“ People always walk slowly when they have a good 
deal to say to each other.” 

Truyn knits his brows : “ I am very much afraid 
those two have got into the thickest of the crowd, 
and have not been able to get through. I have dis- 
liked the idea of this expedition from the first. I 
cannot understand, Marie, how such a thing could 
enter your head.” 

“My head?” replied his sister, deprecatingly and 
with a peculiar expression ; then she is silent. He 


tiiE HAND t)F DESTINY. 


lO^ 

knows perfectly well that she is as innocent of plan- 
ning partie de plaisir as the angels in heaven. 

'' Mais qiiavez-vous done?'" grumbled the prince, 
pouring enormous quantities of Parmesan cheese 
into his soup, while Mrs. Ferguson is continually 
complaining that she is dying of hunger — which is, 
to say the least, remarkable, in view of the loads 
of bonbons which she has disposed of during the 
afternoon. Madame de Gandry orders a number of 
Parisian dainties of which the Falcone has never 
heard. 

Countess Schalingen praises the Italian dishes and 
regrets not having any appetite. Truyn and the 
general again and again turn their eyes anxiously 
to the door. Zinka and Sempaly do not appear. 
Truyn finds it more and more impossible to conceal 
his anxiety. 

“ I cannot understand how you can get so excited, 
my dear count,’’ says Madame de Gandry with a 
perfidious smile ; “ even if Fraulein Stertzl has been 
detained a little, vshe is safe under the protection of 
Count Sempaly. If she had been confided to some 
one who was less reliable, with whom she was less 
intimate — then, indeed, I could understand ” 

Truyn passes his hand nervously over his gray 
hair, and murmurs in his mother-tongue ; “ That 

woman will be the death of me yet!” after which 
he continues to reproach his sister. 

And another quarter of an hour passes. In spite 
of the rather slow service, the dessert has been 
reached — not a trace of Zinka and Sempaly. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. IO9 

“I begin to feel seriously alarmed,” says the 
princess. “ I fear Zinka may have fainted in the 
crowd.” 

Countess Gandry draws down the corners of her 
mouth sarcastically, and says: “That might have 
been the wisest thing for her to do under the cir- 
cumstances.” 

Truyn hears the abominable insinuation, and 
bites his lips furiously. 

At that moment the door opens, Zinka and Sem- 
paly enter the room — she with calm, smiling eyes, 
Sempaly with a scowl on his face. 

“Thank heaven!” cries Truyn. “What has 
happened?” asks the princess, while Truyn sets a 
chair for Zinka beside his seat at table. 

“What has happened?” Sempaly cries in an 
angry tone ; “ the most natural thing in the world — 
we got into the crowd, and could not get out!” 

“That is singular,” remarks Madame de Gandry 
with an ugly smile; “we all got through.” 

“You may remember, madame, that we were the 
last of the party; we had hardly walked twenty 
steps, when the crowd in front of us began to get 
blocked. We hastened on; we wanted to get 
through at any price. I could have succeeded by 
myself, but with a lady — suddenly a disagreeable 
altercation arose — curses, blows, stabs followed — 
pah, I can’t express to you what a horrible sensa- 
tion it gave me to be there in the street with a lady, 
with a young girl.” 

“ Fraulein Stertzl seems to have taken the matter 


no 


THE HAND OF DESTINY, 


much more coolly than you, Count Sempaly," re- 
marks Madame de Gandry maliciously ; “ one does 
not receive the impression that the adventure has 
alarmed her.” 

“ Fraulein Zinka was very brave,” replies Sem- 
paly. 

“Why, what should I have been afraid of?” 
asked Zinka, opening her eyes very wide, with the 
simplicity of perfect innocence. “ It was Count 
Sempaly who had the responsibility, and not I.” 

Madame de Gandry smiles sarcastically. “ But 
we shall have to leave now,” she says, “if we want 
to get to the Costanzi to-night.” 

A general moving of chairs ensues, a confused 
universal attempt among the gentlemen to render 
assistance, during which no one can find the right 
wrap for the right lady. 

Princess Vulpini remains in her place. “ I shall 
not stir from here,” she cries with considerable 
energy; “ I shall not take Zinka to the Costanzi. 
We will wait till she has eaten her beefsteak, and 
then I shall drive her home. I wish you all much 
pleasure!” 

Zinka eats her beefsteak with the greatest equa- 
nimity and the most praiseworthy appetite — is 
charming, affectionate, and entertaining; and has 
not the faintest suspicion that her name will be on 
everybody’s lips the next day. 

But Truyn is very pale. He has distinctly heard 
Countess Gandry whisper to her friend: “After 
this, the banns will surely have to be published.” 


r 


Py4RT II.— LENT. 

CHAPTER I. 

'‘Ah! I’m glad to find you in,” cried Truyn the 
next morning, as he entered Sempaly’s sitting- 
room, where the latter, with a book beside his cup, 
was just finishing his after-luncheon coffee. It was 
in the Palazzo di Venezia, where he occupied an 
official apartment. 

“ It is very good of you to look in upon me ; I 
wanted to show you my new ‘Francia;’ the dealer 
who sold me the picture assured me that it was a 
‘Francia,’ but — you look preoccupied? What has 
brought you here?” 

“ I merely wanted to ask you if you would like 
to go with us to-day — hm — to Frascati?” 

“To Frascati — in the afternoon — what an ideal” 
exclaimed Sempaly, astonished. “ But I could not 
join you, at any rate. I am going to the Palatine 
with the Stertzls at three o’clock.” 

“Ah!” said Truyn, and his face assumed a very 
grave expression. 

“May I offer you a cup of coffee?” asked Sem- 
paly. 

“No, thank you,” replied Truyn dryly. He 

III 


1 12 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


was evidently restless, and took up and examined 
several of the bric-a-brac articles scattered about, 
in order to calm himself. By accident he also laid 
his hand upon the book which Sempaly had been 
reading. It was the “Essays of Elia,” and on the 
fly-leaf was written, in large, firm characters : 

“ In kind remembrance of a very serious quarrel. 

“ZiNKA StERTZL.” 

“The little girl lost a wager to me not long ago,” 
remarked Sempaly in explanation; “there is an- 
other one pending between us, which is to be de- 
cided to-day at the Palatine Gardens.” 

Truyn closed the book energetically and put it 
down. Then, leaning his elbow on the table, be- 
side which he had seated himself, and fixing on 
Sempaly a serious and penetrating look, he said: 
“ Do you intend to marry Fraulein Stertzl?” 

Sempaly started. “What are you thinking of?” 
he cried ; but as Truyn did not answer, and merely 
continued to look at him in silence, he suddenly 
assumed a stubborn mien. Turning his darkly 
glowing eyes upon Truyn with an angry, defiant 
expression, he cried brusquely: “And what if I 
do?” 

“ In that case I hope that you may not be want- 
ing in the energy needed to carry out your inten- 
tion,” said Truyn; “for to stop half-way in such 
cases is a crime.” He breathed hard atid kept his 
eyes cast down. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


II3 

Instead of lighting up, Sempaly’s face grew 
thoroughly dark. He had counted upon vehement 
opposition; brought face to face with his cousin’s 
calmly acquiescent, even encouraging manner, he 
found himself in the position of a man who, having 
strained all hi^’muscles for the purpose of lifting a 
heavy piece of iron, suddenly becomes aware that 
he has a piece of pasteboard, light as a feather, to 
deal with. He lost countenance completely. 

“ Hm !” he exclaimed angrily. “ You really talk 
as if the question were one of dancing a german. 
*The thing is absolutely impossible! What are we 
to live on ? I have used up my own property long 
ago ; my brother, if I were to take such an unprece- 
dented step, would cut off my allowance entirely, 
and Zinka is not of age yet. I might, indeed, sell 
grasso hicido to support my wife — which would, 
it is true, have the immense advantage that my 
mother-in-law would disown me. Or do you pro- 
pose that I should allow myself to be supported by 
Madame Clotilde Stertzl during Zinka ’s minority.^” 

“Well,” said Truyn very calmly, “if you take so 
sensible a view of the impossibility of a marriage 
with Zinka, your conduct toward her is flatly inex- 
cusable.” 

Truyn was still seated at the small table, upon 
which stood the delicate coffee-service, while Sem- 
paly, with both hands in his pockets, angry, like 
all those who feel themselves in the wrong, paced 
up and down the room, pushing thq 
Jjitber and tbitb^r ib bis jiritbtipn, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


1 14 

I really don’t know what ails yon!” he at last 
cried peevishly, suddenly stopping before Truyn. 
“ Stertzl has never objected to my conduct, and he 
certainly stands in a nearer relation to Zinka than 
you !” 

Truyn changed color slightly at this attack, but 
he regained his self-control immediately. 

“Stertzl, in spite of his matter-of-fact outward 
manner, is an idealist, who would be glad to fetch 
the stars from the sky for his sister,” he said; “he 
has never doubted for a moment that you have the 
most serious intentions toward her.” 

“That is not possible!” cried Sempaly indig- 
nantly. 

“It is the case, however,” Truyn assured him. 
“ The deluded man happens to be of the opinion 
that his sister is good enough for anybody.” 

“And in that he is right!” exclaimed Sempaly — 
“perfectly right; but the compulsion under which 
my circumstances place me, the duties which I have 
inherited ” 

He had seated himself on the step of one of the 
deep window-recesses, and, with his elbows on his 
knees, his cheeks between his hands, looked, brood- 
ing, straight before him. He continued: 

“ Permit me, however, to ask a question. What 
has induced j/ou to interfere in this affair?” 

“ I have had the matter at heart for some time,” 
was Truyn ’s reply; “but that which has absolutely 
forced me to speak of it to you to-day is the fact 
that last night, before you reached the Falcone, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


II5 

Mesdames Ferguson and Gandry took the liberty of 
making various remarks which convinced, me that 
your continued attentions to Zinka are beginning 
to injure her reputation.” 

“ Pshaw, if you want to care for what every old 
washerwoman says!” cried Sempaly testily. Then 
he made a few more remarks, in which the words 
“ responsibility . . . fidelity to a trust committed 
to him by God,” etc., were prominent. An expres- 
sion of icy scorn came into Truyn’s handsome 
face, and after listening awhile he suddenly in- 
terrupted Sempaly with : 

“ No subterfuges, I beg of you! The question is 
simply this: Do you love Zinka?” 

The attach^ contracted his brows. “Yes,” he 
answ’ered shortly, almost angrily. 

“ Well, and you have not the courage to burden 
yourself with the annoyances which a marriage 
with her would bring upon you?” 

Sempaly remained silent. 

“Then, my dear fellow,” continued Truyn, 
“ there is but one thing for you to do, which is, to 
break off your intercourse with Zinka as delicately, 
but at the same time as speedily, as possible.” 

“That I cannot and will not do!” cried Sempaly 
stamping his foot. 

“ If, within three days, you have not taken the 
necessary steps for being transferred to some other 
post, I shall feel obliged to give a hint either to 
Stertzl, or — to your brother — whichever you like 
test!” said Truyn firmly. “ And now good-by !” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


I l6 

“Good-by,” replied Sempaly, without stirring. 
Truyn went toward the door. On the sill he 
turned and said, with some hesitation: “Don’t 
be offended, Nicki; I could not do otherwise. Re- 
member one thing : duty is a bitter morsel with a 
good after-taste!” 


CHAPTER H. 


“Poor girl! Poor, sweet child!” muttered 
Truyn to himself as he descended the gray stone 
staircase of the Palazzo di Venezia. “ Now is the 
time to talk about inherited responsibility, of the 
force of circumstances, of political economy, now! 
Good heavens !” He lit a cigar, but suddenly threw 
it away impatiently. “ Bah — to meet a girl like 
Zinka — to be loved by her, and — to be free !” 

He walked quickly out into the square. The con- 
cierge, who stood at the door, was surprised that 
the count, usually so courteous, paid no heed to his 
respectful greeting on this occasion. As long as he 
had known him, this had never happened before. 

He was very peculiar, this young, gray-haired 
Count Truyn. Grown up amid the happiest family 
relations, he had, while still quite young, commit- 
ted the great mistake of marrying, against his in- 
clination, the handsome Princess Gabrielle Zinsen- 
burg, who, several years older than he, had in cold 
blood staked her all on her last card to force him 
into an alliance with her. She was a superficial 
and heartless woman, and he could never accustom 
himself to the hollow worldliness of their married 
life. A few years after the wedding they sep- 
arated by mutual agreement. He had given her 

H7 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Il8 

his name; she let him keep their child. His life 
was desolate. He had a great, noble heart, and 
could give it to no one, but was forced to carry it 
about in solitude in his breast, where it grew heavier 
and heavier as time wore on. His love for his 
child, much though it occupied him, did not suffice 
to give his inner life the nourishment which it 
needed. His whole inner nature was tinctured 
with a bitter, unsatisfied feeling. Having lived in 
foreign countries more or less for years, his ideas 
had become enlarged, and he had divested himself 
entirely of many strictly Austrian prejudices. Nev- 
theless, he was always considered reactionary at 
home, because he passively voted with his party. 
He was not reactionary, but he was utterly indiffer- 
ent to all political exertions. Sometimes he smiled 
at the want of consideration exhibited by the Lefts, 
sometimes at the disturbances among the Rights, 
and the perfecting of the constitution he regarded, 
in his inmost heart, as a thankless task. 

He was not satisfied with the present order of 
things in general ; but he believed that, in order to 
cure the existing serious defects, it would abso- 
lutely require a thorough regeneration of the human 
race. The human race, however, has not the least 
desire to be regenerated; its members find their 
chief pleasure in shouting at one another, and 
mutually laying their faults at each other’s doors. 

He did not care to shout. Instead of relieving 
his oppressed heart by sonorous humane theories, 
he sought consolation in acts of unlimited charity. 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. 


119 


Sempaly’s undecided, groping manner had di- 
rectly repelled him to-day. “ How is it possible,” 
he asked himself, “ for a man to have at the same 
time such warmth of feeling, and so little heart? 
He is absolutely the most selfish creature I have 
ever met with — an Epicurean in feeling, through 
and through, and Avith just about enough heart for 
his own amusement!” 


CHAPTER III. 


The wager pending between Zinka and Sempaly 
was not decided that afternoon. Sempaly did not 
go to the Palatine, but sent Zinka a short note of 
regret at the last moment. Truyn’s words had 
made a very strong impression upon him, even 
though he would hardly acknowledge to himself 
that this was the case. However he might struggle 
against it, nothing remained to him but to seriously 
face the situation. 

Have himself transferred, give up all his pleas- 
ant dallying habits of life — the idea was insupport- 
able to him ! It seemed to him as if, while he had 
been lying in a delicious slumber, his head full of 
sweet dreams, some one had attempted to roughly 
awaken him. He felt no inclination to wake up, 
to rub the dreams from his eyes. Was there really 
nothing else left to him? True, Truyn had placed 
one alternative before him: he could, if he had 
possessed the requisite energy, have turned the 
sweet, vague dream into a wondrous, warm living 
reality. His whole being vibrated, as in a mad 
transport of joy, while this thought hovered caress- 
ingly around his heart. 

He was no longer at the age when young men 
commit follies, when they hope to convert noto- 
120 


ilAkD OF DFSTiNY. 


i2i 

rious caf^-chantant singers to a moral life, or wish to 
marry their sister’s governess, who is twelve years 
their senior. If he considered the eventuality of a 
marriage with Zinka at all, it was because he knew 
that his feeling for her was no vain, transient de- 
lusion, but that it had taken root in his inmost 
being. All the pleasures of the world had been 
accessible to him, and he had tired of them. That 
which sufficed to procure for other young men of 
his acquaintance the amount of excitement which 
every one needs in order to keep up his interest in 
life merely filled his very delicately organized na- 
ture with disgust. For several years past life had 
appeared very insipid to him, until he made Zinka ’s 
acquaintance. Then it seemed to him as if the 
loveliest spring fairies had suddenly fluttered into 
his cold, desolate soul, and had there called forth 
by magic all sorts of blossoms, and carried on their 
mad, charming pranks. He felt once more the 
“sweet pam of existence.” . . . And should he 
now arbitrarily condemn all those lovely blossoms 
to death? 

“Cease my intercourse with her — have myself 
transferred? No, a thousand times no! I cannot 
and will not do it!” he muttered angrily, always 
coming back to the same point : “ What business is 
it of Truyn’s? Who is he, that he should have the 
right to order me about?” he cried vehemently. 

But when he wanted to make up his mind to just 
carry on his intercourse with Zinka as heretofore, 
to enjoy her smiles, her charming ways, her beauty, 


122 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


without desiring anything further, as he had done 
until now, a strange sensation suddenly came over 
him. He felt that he could do so no longer. His 
heart, until now enjoying in silence, had learned 
to speak and to demand. To endeavor to quiet it 
by so hollow a delusion would be as futile as to at- 
tempt to quench a terrible thirst by the dew-drop 
in the calyx of a rose. 

He suddenly loved her madly, passionately ! 

It was particularly the so-called interesting wo- 
men of whom he had always tired so quickly. Most 
of them were like brooks, made turbid by the rain, 
the shallowness of which was not immediately per- 
ceptible only because they had lost their clearness 
and purity in the thunder-storms of life. Zinka, 
however, reminded one of a beautiful mountain- 
lake, the waters of which are so clear that, from its 
banks, every pebble at the bottom can be distinctly 
seen. But the farther one goes out upon it, the 
less transparent, the more mysterious the waters 
become, though without being dimmed; only on 
account of their increasing depth. And at last they 
are so deep that, in spite of their crystalline purity., 
one can see the bottom just as little as one can 
penetrate to the depths of the blue sky above us. 
It seemed to him as if there were hidden in the 
lake, just there at its greatest depth, a wondrous 
treasure, which one alone, one whom God favored, 
was privileged to raise. 

How he longed to fathom that beautiful lake! 
She seemed just made for him. He had never 


THE Hand of destiny. 


123 


had a dull moment while with her; she satisfied 
his head as much as his heart. All the incongru- 
ous contrasts of her personality enchained him. 
He once said of her that she was “like a small 
compendium of womanliness,” there were so many 
different qualities comprised in her. The keenness 
of thought which sometimes suddenly flashed out 
from her child-like merriment, the witty exuber- 
ance of spirits which was often followed by moods 
of yearning dreaminess, her little capricious ego- 
isms, and her noble self-forgetting readiness for 
sacrifice, the spontaneous grace of her motions, the 
music of her melting voice. . . . 

Should he really? .... No, it could not be; 
Truyn was right; he must go away from Rome — 
the sooner the better. He took his hat and left the 
house, to call on the ambassador in the Palazzo 
Chigi, and make the necessary arrangements with 
him. His excellency was not at home. Much an- 
noyed, he went to the Hunting Club, lost several 
games of ^cart^. ... he was out of sorts. He 
looked at his watch again and again, as if he were 
waiting for something; he grew more and more 
restless from minute to minute. . . . 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ ’Tis spring once again; ‘tis the beautiful May: 

Trees now their garments of blossoms are weaving. 
Thou o'er my life, love, alone dost hold sway. 

Freely I gave it, myself to thee giving ; 

Ay, plunge in my bosom thy knife, O my lover — 

What though it pain me, 'tis nothing to me — 

And that thou seekest, e’en there thou 'It discover, 

A heart that e’er has loved only thee !” 

These simple words, in the Roman dialect, sung 
to a very mournful melody, vibrated through the 
air from the drawing-room windows of Palazetto 

M , as Sempaly passed it that same evening. 

In order to change the current of his thoughts, he 
had concluded to make some calls. His way did 
not take him through the quiet side-street on which 
the Palazetto stood, but he could not refrain from 
making a detour in order to pass it. It was a warm 
night. Softly and insinuatingly the tones floated 
down to him. He knew Zinka’s voice, and recog- 
nized in the song which she was singing one of the 
melancholy '' stormlli'' in which the peasants of the 
Campagna give vent to their sorrow. The song 
ceased. He was going on his way, when the soft 
silence was broken by another, still sweeter, still 
more touching ; 


124 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 12 5 

“ Would’st I were dead ? Oh, death is sweet, believe me, 

Since ’twas thy hand the poisoned cup did give me, 

And, love, my tomb shall be within thy bosom !” 

The tender words were borne on a solemn, minor 
strain, like a branch of fading spring-blossoms on 
the waters of a sadly moaning stream. 

He turned. He listened intently. The song 
closed with full, long-drawn tones. It seemed to 
him as if he could have given anything in the 
world to hear it once more, even if it were only 
the last line : 

“ La sepoltura mia sara il tuo seno ! ” 

Then he heard Zinka speaking. He felt an- 
noyed that he could not distinguish her words. 
He grew impatient. Good heavens ! why was he 
tormenting himself down there? 

To his astonishment, he was met by Stertzl as 
he entered the drawing-room. 

“What! back already?” he cried, as he cordially 
extended his hand to him after greeting Zinka. 

“Yes, Arnsperg could onl)^ spend two days in 
Naples,” replied Stertzl; “I was very glad to see 

him, but well, I must be getting rather old, 

otherwise I could hardly feel so glad to be at home 
again,” with which he drew his sister toward him, 
and passed his hand lightly over her pretty golden 
head. 

Tliis brotherly caress enough tP increase 


126 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Sempaly’s excitement. “I don’t wonder that you 
love your home,” he muttered. At that moment 
the baroness entered the room, an opera-cloak over 
her shoulders, smelling-bottle and handkerchief in 
hand, and, as usual, ultra-genteel in her manner. 
“Not ready yet, Zenai’de? . . . Ah, you here, my 
dear Sempaly? . . . Votl^ qui est gentil!" giving 
him the tips of her fingers to kiss. “We were quite 
anxious about you, because you excused yourself 
from our walk so suddenly. Zinka was afraid you 
had an attack of Roman fever,” she said affect- 
edly. 

“ Zinka has a vivid imagination, inclining toward 
the horrible,” observed Stertzl with a smile. 

“ I certainly thought you must have some very 
good reason for excusing yourself,” cried Zinka 
hastily, and somewhat embarrassed. 

Sempaly looked straight into her eyes. “ I had 
imposed an Ash- Wednesday penance upon myself — 
that was all,” he said tenderly, in a low tone. 

“ In order to finish your penance you ought to 
go to Lady Dalrymple’s with us now,” proposed 
the baroness. 

“Oh, I beg of you, absolve me from that; I had 
looked forward with such pleasure to a quiet even- 
ing to-night.” 

“ And I too,” said Zinka. “ I am heartily tired of 
all parties and routs. A rout always seems to me 
like a social guard-mounting, at which so and so 
many regiments of fashion file past. 

“Let us h^ve a holiday, mamma,” entreated 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 12/ 

Stertzl; “remember, it is Ash-Wednesday, and we 
are Catholics.” 

“ I had my scruples, but the Duchess of Otranto 
is going,” his mother replied. 

Sempaly, however, with imperturbable gravity, 
assured her that the Duchess of Otranto was by no 
means looked upon as a standard by Roman so- 
ciety; and therefore she concluded, in accordance 
with the wishes of the young people, to remain at 
home, and withdrew with the remark that she 
would write some letters before tea. 


CHAPTER V. 


The majority of men have sentiment only in 
their head, while it is well known that women have 
sentiment in their whole body. Sempaly, in this 
respect, had the organization of a woman. He was 
full of sentiment, even to the tips of his fingers, 
and, as a Frenchman of genius has expressed him- 
self untranslatably, “ avait les sens poHe.'' In 
consequence of this, the most trivial, the most 
purely external things were wont to excite him, 
either very agreeably or very disagreeably. One 
unpleasant detail, however minute, sufficed to mar 
his enjoyment of that which was grandest and 
noblest. He would not have comprehended the 
beauties of “ Faust” if he had made the acquain- 
tance of that masterpiece through a worn volume 
from a circulating library. 

As the baroness had withdrawn, there was no 
longer anything to mar the pleasure which he de- 
rived from being with Zinka. 

Stertzl had taken up his paper again ; Zinka, by 
Sempaly ’s request, resumed her place at the piano. 
As usual, she sang and played without notes, her 
head slightly bent over the keys, v/ith half -closed 
eyes, gazing dreamily before her. The somewhat 
gloomily furnished apartment, with its tapestry 
covered walls, its charming confusion of yaripus 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


129 


bibelots, pots of broad-leaved plants, Japanese lac- 
quer-work, and comfortable irregular furniture, 
formed a harmonious background to her white ro- 
coco figure. 

Through the rose-colored shade of the single 
lamp, the light trembled, mysteriously softened; 
a sort of melodious color-mezza-voce pervaded the 
room. The air was filled with the odor of violets, 
roses, and gilliflowers, and the sweet melancholy 
of the fragrance exhaled by the flowers mingled 
with the sadness of the love-songs so full of plaintive 
longing. Sempaly’s whole being vibrated with a 
delicious exaltation which few men could have com- 
prehended. 

Zinka sang one after the other of the charming 
“ stornelli ” at his request ; her voice grew more and 
more tender. 

“Don’t sing too much; you will tire yourself,” 
warned Stertzl. 

“ Only one more song — the one I heard from be- 
low,” begged Sempaly. 

She sang : 

“ La sepoltura mia sara il tuo seno.” 

Trembling, the words fell from her lips. Her 
hands slid from the keys. Then Sempaly took 
those soft, warm child-hands into his : a delicious 
giddiness, an unmeasurable joy came over him as 
he touched them. “ Zinka, do you feel anything of 
that which speaks from your voice to-night?” 

Her eyes meet his — she closes them quickly, as 
9 


30 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


if she had suddenly looked into a dazzling light, 
and she starts, as one would start at an overwhelm- 
ing happiness. The answer is still hovering on her 
lips, when the door opens; the Italian servant calls 
out some un distinguishable jargon, and in walks, 
followed by her daughter and her Polish admirer, 
Baroness Wolnitzky. 

“Ah, how glad I am to find you at home!” she 
cries. “We counted on your not being out on Ash- 
Wednesday. How do you do, Zinka!” 

Zinka seems petrified. Mamma Stertzl, at the 
sound of that loud, coarse voice, has hastened in 
from the next room. “Charlotte!” she cries, in 
broken accents ; “ Char — lotte, — you — here !” 

“Pve taken you by surprise, haven’t I, Clptilde. 
Yes, things often happen when you least expect 
them; we arrived to-day, at three o’clock, and we 
called on you this afternoon, but didn’t find you in, 
so we concluded to come this evening. It’s late, 
eh? Well, I, for my part, should have been here 
long ago, but Slava insisted on our dressing up — 
for such near relations, what nonsense ! — but I don’t 
like to contradict her, she gets out of sorts so easily ; 
and so I did dress up.” 

With this the baroness, after noisily kissing her 
sister and niece, drops clumsily and heavily, with- 
out invitation, upon a very small chair. 

She has indeed “dressed up.” On her head, 
with its short, gray hair, is balanced a black head- 
dress, the lappets of which hang coquettishly 
about her cheeks. Her stout body is squeezed into 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. I3I 

a purple satin dress, which has evidently grown 
too tight with time, and the defects of which she 
seeks to conceal by a lace scarf picturesquely wound 
about her shoulders. Her pearl-colored gloves are 
very short and very tight, and have all the button- 
holes burst out. 

Slava wears some kind of a tri-colored dress and 
some very old jewelry, which she has bought on the 
journey at an antiquarian’s in Verona. Her hair 
is arranged in antique style, and she is constantly 
turning her head toward her left shoulder, in order 
to look as much as possible like the Apollo. At 
the same time she assumes an expression as if she 
were about to have her photograph taken. 

Vladimir Matuschowsky’s slender conspirator’s 
figure is encased in a braided coat ; he holds in his 
hand a low hat decorated with tassels, and looks 
upon the dress-coats of the gentlemen, which in- 
timidate him, as a personal insult. 

“Monsieur Vladimir de Matuschowsky, ” Baron- 
ess Wolnitzky introduces him, “a — a — un ami de 
la famille ! ” Whenever the worthy lady is em- 
barrassed, she generally begins to talk French. 

In mamma Stertzl, who has, by degrees, re- 
covered from her fright, the wish arises to shine 
before her sister. 

“Count Sempaly,” she says, introducing the 
attache, “a friend of oiir family — my sister. Bar- 
oness Wolnitzky. You must have heard of the 
great Slave leader, my dear Sempaly, who created 
such a sensation in 1848,” 


132 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Sempaly bows silently. Mme. Wolnitzky rises 
and courteously gives him her hand. “ Glad to 
make your acquaintance, count. I have heard a 
good deal about you ; my sister Clotilde has men- 
tioned you in every letter ; I am entirely aii courant. ” 

Once more Sempaly bows in silence; then, re- 
tiring somewhat to the background, while Slava also 
joins in the conversation with the lady of the house, 
he says to Stertzl in an undertone: “I’ll take 
French leave; at such a meeting of relations a 
stranger is always out of place.” His manner has 
suddenly grown very stiff, his tone very haughty. 
Stertzl nods. “You had better go, then,” he whis- 
pers. 

The lady of the house, however, suspecting his 
intention, calls to him: “No, no, my dear Sem- 
paly, you must not leave us — you don’t disturb us 
at all; and you certainly need not consider your- 
self a stranger.” 

“It might look as if we had driven you away,” 
said Baroness Wolnitzky archly, “and I cannot sup- 
pose that.” 

And Sempaly stays — perhaps only from that im- 
pulse which sometimes incites us to see the end of 
a very annoying situation. 

“Control yourself a little, Zini,” Stertzl remon- 
strates with his sister in a low voice ; “ the inter- 
ruption is very unpleasant. But you ought not to 
show your annoyance quite so plainly.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


Tea has been brought in. Stertzl, with praise- 
worthy heroism, devotes himself to his cousin 
Slava, in order to leave his spoilt little sister as 
much at liberty as possible. Slava treats him with 
condescension, and casts side-glances over her large 
Japanese fan at Sempaly, who, taciturn and out 
of humor, is seated on a small sofa beside Zinka, 
helping her prepare the tea. Baroness Wolnitzky 
noisily drinks one cup after another, eats up almost 
all the tea-cakes, and talks incessantly on the most 
incongruous subjects. Vladimir Matuschowsky 
gazes gloomily straight before him, consistently re- 
fuses all refreshments, and says not a word. With 
his arms crossed over his breast and his head thrown 
back, he sits there like a picture of human dignity 
on the defensive. 

“I’m very hungry,” confesses Madame Wolnitz- 
ky. “We are stopping at a good hotel, to be sure — 
Hotel della Stella, in the Via della Pace ; a baron 
from Vienna, whom we met on the way here, recom- 
mended it to us. It’s not exactly a first-class hotel, 
but still none but people of rank stop there. A 
Russian princess dined at the table-d’hote with us, 
and a French marquise, too ; she, to be sure, seemed 
to me rather doubtful. I think she is running away 

133 


i34 


THE hand Of DESTiNY. 


with her lover, either from her husband or her 
creditors.” 

For the sake of propriety, the baroness, during* 
this equivocal communication, holds her hand, with 
fingers spread, before her mouth on the side toward 
Zinka and Sempaly. “ The dinner was good, very 
good,” she continues; “we pay six francs board.” 

“ Seven, mamma, ” Slava corrects her irritably. 

“Six, Slava!” 

“Seven, mamma!” 

And then follows a vehement dispute between 
mother and daughter, extremely interesting for the 
rest of the company, as to whether the price of 
board at the Hotel della Stella is six or seven francs. 

Slava remains mistress of the field. “ And with 
candles and service it is eight,” she finally asserts 
triumphantly. 

“I let her talk,” says Mine. Wolnitzky, again 
spreading out her hand before her mouth ; “ she is 
peculiar in that respect. Everything that is cheap 
seems common to her. But what was I about to 
say? — oh, yes — that at the table-d’hote — there were v 
flowers on the table — I did not get enough to eat,” 
and with this she seized upon a piece of plum-cake. ^.) 

At that moment the door opens, and Count 
Siegburg is announced. 

“Good-evening, ladies,” he cries, cheerily; “I 
was passing the house, and when I saw your win- 
dows lit up so comfortably, I could not deny myself 
the pleasure of coming up to see how Ash Wed- 
nesday agreed with you.” 


THEl HAND OF He^TiNV. 


Hi^ eye glances over the three strangers. In a 
moment he has comprehended the situation ; but, 
far from taking a tragic view of the same, he re- 
solves, on the contrary, to derive the greatest pos- 
sible amount of entertainment from it.- 

He asks to be introduced to the two ladies, and 
immediately establishes himself in a position from 
I which he can overlook the whole company, Sem- 
paly included, and enjoy the conversation of both 
Madame and Mademoiselle Wolnitzky. He first 
addresses himself to the latter. “ The name of 
Wolnitzky is deservedly famous,” he says. 

“Yes, my father played an important part in the 
year forty-eight,” replies Slava. 

“Siegburg — Siegburg,” murmurs Mme. Wol- 
i nitzky in the mean time to her sister, “ what Sieg- 
! burgs? The Budow, or the Waldau, or the Mer- 
schenitz?” 

“ The Waldau Siegburgs — the mother was a Prin- 
cess Haag,” whispers Mme. Stertzl, leaning back 
among the sofa-cushions. 

“Ah, the Waldau Siegburgs! Why, those are 
the best of all !” 

“Of course,” replies her sister with admirable 
nonchalance, as if she had been associating with no 
one but “ the best Siegburgs” during her whole life. 

Mme. Wolnitzky calls the most courteous expres- 
sion to her broad face, and smiles at the young 
count, like one who is awaiting an opportunity to 
put in a word. But she is prevented from doing so 
for the present by her sister Clotilde, who asks, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


136 

with a manner in which acidity and sweetness 
are blended : “ What has induced you to come to 

Rome?” 

“ Can you ask?” cries Madame Wolnitzky. “ I had 
long wished to see Rome, and, when you wrote me 

such kind letters, Clotilde — that is ” and then 

she commences the story about her Bernini. “ You 
remember our Bernini, Clotilde.” 

Madame Stertzl nods. 

Seeing that Siegburg is beginning to pay attention 
to her words, Madame Wolnitzky turns to him and 
continues : 

“ I had in my possession a copy of the Belvedere 
Apollo — that is to say, only of the bust, executed 
by Bernini. This work of art had been in our 
family for generations ” 

“For centuries,” says Baroness Stertzl, in cor- 
roboration. 

“ I must confess that I was very reluctant to part 
with it,” her sister goes on to say. “ I made up my 
mind to it, however, when Tulpe, the famous anti- 
quarian from Vienna, presented himself one day, 
and bought it.” 

Stertzl, who is not unacquainted with the wan- 
derings of the Bernini, makes some allusion to them 
in his dry way — upon which, Madame Wolnitzky 
proceeds: “You see, count” — moving nearer and 
nearer to Siegburg — “ it happened just as it does 
sometimes with girls. For years you take them 
about to balls, or you travel with them from one 
watering-place to another, and can’t get rid of them ; 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


137 


and then you stay quietly at home, and suddenly 
a lover makes his appearance, when you have nearly 
given up all hope. It was very hard for me to part 
with that bust, I must say.” 

“The parting must have been trying,” replies 
Siegburg with feeling. 

“Very trying!” repeats Madame Wolnitzky,“ and 
the more so as there is so remarkable a resem- 
blance between my daughter and the Apollo. 
Have you not noticed it?” 

“ From the first. As soon as I entered the room 
I was struck by it,” Siegburg assures her without 
the slightest hesitation. 

“ Every one says so — oh — oh — you can imagine, 
now, what a sacrifice it was for me — it makes my 
heart ache to think of it — oh, these emotions! 
You must excuse me if I take off my head-dress!” 
and with these words she energetically snatches the 
black lace structure from her head, and, passing her 
hand, with a free and easy gesture, through her 
scanty gray hair, cries: “Oh, heavens! we poor 
women are badly off ; limited, restrained in all di- 
rections — we are not even allowed to be bald at our 
ease.” 

“Yes, indeed, the Tate of woman is deplorable,’ ” 
quotes Siegburg in a tone of sympathy. 

“You are a true original,” cries Mamma Stertzl, 
giggling in some embarrassment. It is well known 
that good society has the habit of adorning un- 
refined relatives, whom it would be a relief to shut 
up in an insane asylum in order to make them 


13^ t'HE flAND OF bEStll^Y. 

innocuous, with this title, “a true original/’ Are 
you still given to advocating the emancipation of 
women?” 

“No longer, dear Clotilde, no longer,” replies 
Madame Wolnitzky; “since experience has taught 
me that every woman throws emancipation aside as 
soon as she has an opportunity to get married, I 
have lost my interest in emancipation.” 

“ But you know the emancipation question refers 
particularly to those women who cannot marry,” 
says Madame Stertzl, who had recently read an 
article on that much-discussed subject. 

“ And as there are positively more women than 
men in the world,” remarks her sister, “I propose 
legal polygamy as a solution of the Female Eman- 
cipation question.” 

Maman, voiis etes d' une inconve^iaitce ! cries 
Slava, quite beside herself, with flashing eyes. 

“Your views are shallow and narrow-minded,” 
retorts her mother ; “ if I had spoken of this matter 
in a frivolous tone, I could comprehend your excite- 
ment. But I look at it philosophically. You un- 
derstand me, count. I’m sure.” 

“Perfectly, madame,” replies Siegburg, with 
grave dignity. “ You regard the matter from the 
standpoint of political economy, and the standpoint 
of political economy knows no impropriety.” 

Sempaly twists his mustache; Zinka changes 
color constantly, and the lady of the house , with 
a shrill and forced laugh, pats her sister on the 
shoulder and cries: “An original — an original!” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


13^ 

Stertzl, who observes that Siegburg is highly en- 
tertained by the nonsensical talk of the old lady, 
and is on the point of laying a new snare for her 
eccentric mind, at last remembers, fortunately, that 
Slava’s singing is the only means of imposing si- 
lence upon her mother. 

He therefore asks his cousin to favor them with 
some national song. After Siegburg has joined in 
the request, and Slava has at first protested against 
the low pitch of the piano, the bad acoustic quality 
of the room, etc., etc., she finally allows herself to 
be persuaded to sing some patriotic songs to Matu- 
schowsky’s accompaniment. Her tall, erect Walky- 
rie-like figure trembles with romantic emotion, and, 
following strictly the traditions of the ''art fr^- 
ntissant," she tears in two a piece of music which 
she holds in her hands during her performance, 
merely for the picturesque effect, and without its 
bearing the least relation to her singing. 

Baroness Wolnitzky listens to her in deep si- 
lence, and sheds tears of rapture. Like many 
other mothers she observes in Slava merely those 
bad qualities with which she comes into conflict, and 
admires her otherwise. 

When Slava has sung the last verse of the latest 
revolutionary Slavic song, which was prohibited 
in 1848, and Stertzl has asked himself which is 
really harder to bear, the absurd talk of his aunt or 
the singing of her daughter, Vladimir de Matu- 
schowsky, whose ill-humor, thanks to the slight ap- 
plause bestowed upon his and Slava’s united mu^ 


i40 THE HAND OF DESTIKY. 

sical efforts, has reached the highest point, observes 
that it is late, and that the ladies must be in need 
of rest after the fatigue of their journey. 

Upon this Madame Wolnitzky hastily dispatches 
the last piece of tea-cake, calmly brushes the 
crumbs from her purple satin lap on to the carpet, 
rises, begins to approach the door with many bows 
and complimentary speeches, and spends fully half 
an hour in taking her leave. 

When his relatives had finally disappeared, and 
the two gentlemen had likewise bidden the ladies 
good-evening, Stertzl, who had accompanied them 
into the vestibule, said to Siegburg good-nat- 
uredly : “ I think you are the only one among us 
who has really found this evening entertaining.” 

Siegburg reddened ; then, looking up at Stertzl 
frankly, he asked: “Can you blame me for it?” 

“ Perhaps — a little,” replied Stertzl with a smile; 
“but I admit that the temptation was very strong.” 

“ To tell the truth, I pity you, Stertzl,” said Sieg- 
burg cordially, and with that considerate indiscre- 
tion which always won him friends; “there’s noth- 
ing in the world more disagreeable than disagreeable 
relations who suddenly thrust themselves upon you. 
I know that by experience. Last spring, in Vienna, 
half a dozen old aunts from the Bukowina suddenly 
rained down upon my mother ” 

Sempaly, in the mean time, much out of sorts, 
slipped into his otter-lined overcoat and remained 
silent. 


CHAPTER VIL 


Three days have passed since Trtiyn so cate- 
gorically bade his cousin make up his mind — since 
the sudden appearance of the grotesque baroness 
Wolnitzky dispelled the lovely witchery which had 
taken possession of Sempaly’s soul, and caused him 
to leave unspoken the avowal of love which hovered 
upon his lips — and he has not yet made his applica- 
tion to be transferred to another post. Everywhere, 
during these three days, Truyn’s eyes have fol- 
lowed him ; again and again they have rested upon 
him with a grave, questioning expression, as if they 
would say: “ Have you decided?’' 

No, he has not 5^et decided. Nothing is harder 
for a man like Sempaly than to come to a decision. 
In his case, it is always Destiny which determines, 
and not he. 

Sempaly’s collision with the baroness could, in- 
deed, drive back the declaration which he was 
about to utter, but it is beyond his power to efface 
Zinka’s image from his heart. He has forgotten 
the absurd speeches of the foolish old woman ; the 
stornello which Zinka sang that evening is still ring- 
ing in his ear. For two days he put a curb upon 
himself, and avoided the Palazetto ; but during that 
time he met Zinka accidentally for a moment at the 
141 


142 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Corso. She was riding in Princess Vnlpini’s car- 
riage, and sat beside her. She wore a dress of 
stone-colored velvet, and a large mousquetaire hat 
which threw a shadow over her forehead and over 
the golden sheen of her hair. She held a large 
bouquet upon her knees, and was chatting gayly 
with Gabrielle Truyn and the little Vulpinis. What 
a charming way she had with children, so playful 
and so kind ! His heart beat violently when her eye 
met his, and she returned his greeting, coloring 
slightly. 

It was the first time that she had blushed on see- 
ing him. 

That night his sleep was troubled by the most 
absurd dreams. And now he is strolling about in 
the sun-flooded morning solitude of the Pincio, 
brooding and giving vent to his irritation by break- 
ing twigs from the bushes which he passes. It 
seems to him more and more as if it were a sine qua 
non of his existence to call Zinka his own. He has 
never yet denied himself a pleasure, and now 

A bright March sunshine is gilding the Piazza 
di Spagna; the waters of the Barcaccia fountain 
sparkle and glitter in a dazzling bluish splendor of 
light. The towers of the Trinita dei Monti Church 
are sharply defined against the blue atmosphere. 
On the flat steps of the Spanish Stairs, models clad 
in conventional Italian costumes crouch beside blind 
beggars, who are incessantly mumbling prayers in 
an undertone. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


143 


In front of the Hotel de 1’ Europe, the cab-driv- 
ers doze comfortably beneath their much-mended 
umbrellas, which, fastened to their seats, serve, 
like those of the market-women, alternately as 
shelter from rain or from sunshine. On every 
door-sill crouches a flower-vender, and now and 
then there sits beside one of them a white black- 
eyed Spitz, with his little nose high up in the air. 
The Piazza is crowded with tourists, and the eyes 
of Beatrice Cenci, the saddest eyes in the world, 
look out from the window of a photograph-shop 
upon the trivial doings of every-day life. 

Calm in mind, and suspecting no evil, Siegburg 
comes out of Law’s banking-house, and, as he in- 
hales with much satisfaction the delicious air, red- 
olent of daffodils and hyacinths, his eyes follow 
approvingly the handsome figure of a young Eng- 
lish lady in a close-fitting guernsey, who happens 
to be passing. Still absorbed in this view, he starts 
in surprise as he hears a harsh voice exclaim: 
‘‘Good-morning, count; quelle chance!'' He turns 
round, and recognizes the broad crimson face which 
looks out at him from under an immense poke-hat 
as that of Baroness Wolnitzky. 

Although the sun is shining brightly, the worthy 
lady wears that most unbecoming of all garments, 
which, originally intended for a water-proof cloak, 
but subsequently used — or rather abused — to cover 
all sorts of defects of the toilet, has long ago been 
christened by the “ Gavroches” of Paris, very ap- 
propriatelj^, cache-misere . And, in spite of the dry- 


44 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


ness of the pavements, she holds up that cache -miser e 
and the dress which it conceals, with both hands, 
thereby distinctly exposing to view a pair of enor- 
mous feet clad in congress-boots with stretched out 
elastics. 

“Ah, baroness,” raising his hat, “I had really 
not ” 

“No, you had not recognized me,” replies the 
baroness serenely, “ and therefore I spoke to you 
first. Quelle chance! You belong to the embassy, 
too, don’t you?” 

“ Certainly ” 

“That’s lucky! I have a favor to ask of you. 
My daughter wishes to obtain an audience with the 
Pope. Slava is a strict Catholic, you see ; but, be- 
tween you and me, I think that is a mere matter of 
fashion. My views of religious matters are purely 
philosophical. However, it would interest me, too, 
to see the Pope ” 

“ Unfortunately the Pope is at present less acces- 
sible than he used to be,” replies Siegburg, “and, 
besides, I do not belong to the papal embassy, and 
consequently, I regret to say, cannot be of service 
to you in this respect.” 

“ So my nephew says, too ; it is provoking, very 
provoking ” 

At this moment Slava comes out of Piale’s 
book-store, dressed in a shabby directoire costume, 
a large hat with feathers, and a pair of rather soiled 
gloves reaching above her elbows, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


145 


“Ah, hon jour!'' she cries courteously, holding 
out the tips of her fingers to the young count. 
Matuschowsky, who accompanies her, merely 
touches his hat glumly. 

Surrounded on all sides as he now is, Siegburg 
begins to find the situation rather alarming. 

“ It is always so pleasant to meet one’s compa- 
triots in foreign lands,” observes Slava. 

“Extremely so,” answers Siegburg, thinking to 
himself: “I wish I could see my way out of this!” 
But suddenly fun once more peeps out mali- 
ciously from his merry eyes, for he hears the bar- 
oness again cry: '^Quelle chance!" and sees her 
steering at the same time for no other than Sem- 
paly, who, out of humor and absorbed, has just 
descended the sun-baked Spanish Stairs to the 
Piazza. 

“Excuse me!” he too mutters, with a start; “I 
* really had not recognized you.” 

Sempaly’s eyes seek the distance, as do those of 
all who find themselves in a trying position. 

In the mean time Madame Wolnitzky continues 
unabashed: “I am delighted to meet you, count; 
for I have a favor to ask of you. Could you not get 
me a permit for the Farnesina? The Duca di Ri- 
palda is said to be very particular ” 

“I am sorry that it is quite im ” At this 

moment, Sempaly’s attention is attracted by a group 
of foreigners — two young ladies with a maid. The 
two ladies, tall, slender as young pines, and dressed 
IQ 


146 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

in close-fitting English cloth costumes, both strik- 
ingly handsome, are carrying on a lively discussion 
with an Italian who has embroidered strips of cloth 
for sale, and seem to take great pleasure in making 
purchases on the street. 

“What charming girls— I think I know them!" 
says Madame Wolnitzky. “ Are they not the latin- 
skys?" 

At that moment the young ladies look up. 
“Nicki — Nicki!" they cry joyfully across half 
the Piazza, with the unconcern of those who have 
been brought up in the belief that the world was 
created solely for them. 

“ Excuse me, baroness," mutters Sempaly. “ My 

cousins " and so saying he leaves her with a 

bow in order to hasten to the other ladies. 

“When did you come — where are you staying?" 

“We arrived this morning. We are at the Hotel 
de Londres ; mamma has just sent a note to you 
to the embassy ; ah, another Austrian!" as Siegburg 
joins the group. “ Rome seems to be an annex of 
Vienna. Do tell me who was that old fortune- 
teller with the enterprising daughter, with whom 
you two were so closely engaged?" 

In the mean time the Wolnitzky party pass the 
lovely girls — mamma with a very courteous man- 
ner, Slava as proudly as if she were the Belvidere 
Apollo himself — and turn into the Via Condotti. 

Suddenly the baroness stops. “ There ! I forgot 
entirely to ask Count Sempaly to get me some tick- 
.ets fox the International Artists’ Festival!" she 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


147 


cries, striking* her hand against her forehead. 
Then she turns, with the evident intention of recti- 
fying her mistake, and nothing but Vladimir Ma- 
tuschowsky’s resolute energy saves Sempaly from 
a renewed attack. 


I 


I 


CHAPTER VIII. 


It is on the Pincio, between five and six — the 
hour when society assembles daily on the great ter- 
race where the band plays, and from which one 
can see the sun setting behind St. Peter’s. 

The reflection of the sunset glides over the gravel 
of the * terrace with a dim golden sheen, 
flashes with a bright yellow light from the brass 
buttons of the uniforms and the instruments of the 
band, and enamels with a metallic blue the ripples 
of the great basin behind the music-stand. Long 
black shadows stretch across the lawns ; the palms, 
the yucca-trees, and the evergreen oaks stand out 
in marvellously rich colors against the partly blush- 
ing, partly fading sky. 

The green, shady portions of the Pincio are 
shunned by the world in general : only four special 
classes of the human race are to be met with 
there — governesses, nurses, children, and priests. 
All kinds of priests are represented; noble mon- 
signori, with their fine-cut features, their erect, 
military carriage, and their delicate hands ; monks, 
whose bearded and tonsured heads look out com- 
fortably from their brown cowls ; whole battalions 
of seminarists, clad in all imaginable colors, tall 
and thin, with green, immature faces. 

Divided from them by a mere veil of leaves 
148 


THE HAND OF OESTINY. 


H9 


surges the fashionable crowd — Roman society in 
elegant equipages, foreigners in more or less re- 
spectable livery-carriages, among which, indeed, 
there occasionally appears a numbered one or two 
horse-cab. Thicker and thicker grows the crowd 
of vehicles, broader and broader the stream of 
Roman fashion rolls from the Villa Borghese across 
the Piazza del Popolo, up the ascent to the Monte 
Pincio. 

On the plateau of the Pincio the carriages stop ; 
the gentlemen crowd around them to pay their 
respects to their fair acquaintances ; the ladies call 
out from one carriage to another merry remarks, 
totally incomprehensible to the uninitiated. From 
the 'gardens which are terraced down from the Pin- 
cio to the Via Margutta, there rises a ""sweet fra- 
grance of budding spring-life. Far below lies 
Rome, and, dominating its confused sea of houses 
and ruins, stern and rigid, colossal, even in the dis- 
tance, with the sunset-light playing around it, St. 
Peter’s rises above the horizon. 

Countess Ilsenbergh’s carriage stands beside 
that of Princess Vulpini ; the latinsky family is 
divided between them. Beside Countess Ilsenbergh 
sits Countess latinsky, leaning back indolently and 
with a pleasant smile on her face. 

Princess Vulpini acts as chaperone to the young 
ladies ; on the back seat, beside his cousin Eugenie 
— she is called Nini by the family — sits Sempaly. 
Siegburg leans on the carriage-door, and entertains 
them all with witty, lively talk. He tells them all 


150 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


the gossip about Roman society which can be told 
with propriety to young ladies. They laugh heart- 
ily and melodiously, and their child-like merriment 
finally infects Sempaly, too, who was rather taci- 
turn and absent-minded for some time after he 
took his place beside his cousin Nini — a place which 
the whole male portion of Roman society envies 
him heartily. 

Just then a certain excitement arises in the 
crowd; everybody is looking in the same direction. 

“What is it?” asked Polyxena latinsky, bending 
forward. 

“It must be Prince Doria’s new drag, or the 
King,” says Princess Vulpini, screwing up her 
near-sighted eyes. 

“No,” observed Siegburg, after looking round; 
“ neither of those. It is Baroness Wolnitzky.” 

In the very handsome landau which Madame 
Stertzl had placed at their disposal for the afternoon, 
are seated the two Wolnitzkys, mother and daugh- 
ter. They are both dressed in their best. The 
daughter leans back haughtily ; the mother stands 
up most of the time, and looks at Roman society 
through an opera-glass. Only occasionally she sits 
down, either to rest or because she cannot keep her 
balance. Once seated, she never fails to show her 
satisfaction with her borrowed equipage by closely 
examining and handling one or another of its 
details. It is especially her eccentric manner, joined 
to her very conspicuous appearance, that causes 
the unusual sensation created by Madame Stertzl’ s 


the hand of destiny. 


5 


landau — a sensation which mother and daughter ^ of 
course, attribute to Slava’s striking resemblance 
to the Apollo of Belvedere. 

^‘Madame Wolnitzky, that crazy old woman with 
whom we saw you talking yesterday?” cries Po- 
lyxena. 

"Yes.” 

"Only think, Nicki! " — this to Sempaly — "mam- 
ma knows her.” 

" Of whom are you speaking, children ?” Countess 
latinsky calls across to her daughters. 

"Of Madame Wolnitzky, mamma; don’t you see 
her there?” 

'' Dieti in cn garde r' cries her mother with energy, 
"you’re not sure of your life with her. To-day she 
attacked me in the Villa Wolkonsky.” 

" How do you happen to know the old lady, 
aunt?” asked Sempaly, rather impatiently. 

" My husband formerly had some political rela- 
tions with Wolnitzky,” explained the countess. " She 
is insufferable ; for full half an hour she kept close 
beside me !” 

"You must have found her conversation very in- 
teresting, countess,” remarked Siegburg, rather sar- 
castically. 

"Very far from it,” replied the countess in a 
vexed tone; "she told me how much her trip is 
costing her, the amount of carriage hire which she 
pays every day, and that she took singing-lessons 
in her youth from Cicimara. And she spoke with 
particular pride of her sister, Madame Stertzl, who, 


THEi HAND OF* DE^STINV. 


152 

she says, lives in grand style here and has inter- 
course exclusively with the ‘cream of society/ — 
What are you laughing at?” 

“You must confess, mamma, that the name of 
Stertzl in connection with the ‘ cream of society ’ . 
is irresistibly funny!” cries Polyxena. 

“ I did not find her talk funny at all,” replies her 
mother in a tone of complaint ; “ apropos y she did tell 
me something interesting, after all — namely, that 
her niece, Zenaide Stertzl — what makes you laugh 
again?” 

“Zenaide Stertzl — that name is a poem!” cries 
Countess Polyxena. 

“Well, it seems, from what she told me, that 
this fair Zenaide is on the point of exchanging the 
objectionable name of Stertzl for one of the finest 
names in Austria — that is what the old goose gave 
me to understand. She said it had not been an- 
nounced yet, and for that reason she could not tell 
me the gentleman’s name, but that Zenaide was as 
good as engaged to a young count — an attach^ of 
the Austrian legation. Who can it be? You ought 
to know.” 

“Oh, indeed! — does it happen to be you?” ex- 
claimed Polyxena, turning to Siegburg. 

Siegburg shakes his head, and, stroking his 
blonde mustache with a malicious smile, takes note 
of Sempaly’s evident vexation. 

“Or is it you, Nicki?” Polyxena cries again 
roguishly. “I congratulate you upon your agree- 
able relatives!” But so marked a feeling of embar- 


The hand oe destiny. 153 

rassment suddenly seizes upon the whole party that 
she is silenced. 

“ I know nothing about it,” declares Sempaly an- 
grily. “ That old chatterbox must have a tremen- 
dous imagination.” 

The flashing light on the uniform buttons and 
the brass instruments of the musicians grows red- 
der and more faint ; the white gleam on the ever- 
green leaves dies away. 

The band plays “ Gran Dio! morir si giovane! ” 

The sun has set ; light and shade are effaced ; the 
day is dead; the night has not yet come. Behind 
St. Peter’s there is a dark red glow like that of a 
subsiding conflagration. 

Au revoir at the Ellis’ to-night!” the ladies call 
out to Siegburg, as he makes his farewell bow. 

The carriages roll down the Pincio, past the Villa 
Medici — down, down into the heart of Rome. 
Through the evening air there resounds a great 
irregular rushing, like that of a stream which is 
flowing toward the sea. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Mr. and Lady Julia Ellis — as the daughter of 
an earl she retained her title — were an English 
couple, with an enormous fortune and brilliant con- 
nections, who for many years past had spent the cold 
season in Italy, because Lady Julia could not bear the 
northern winters. In former years her eccentric- 
ities had been much talked about; now she was a 
very old lady with white hair, faultlessly regular 
features, and arms that were too fleshy. Like all 
Englishwomen, she appeared decollet^e on all state 
occasions, and at such times was fond of wearing 
pink feathers in her hair. 

Her husband, Mr. Ellis, was younger than she, 
had a handsome, truly English face, short whis- 
kers, and picturesquely flowing white hair. His 
profile bore some resemblance to that of Felix 
Mendelssohn- Bartholdy — a fact of which he was 
very proud. There were two other things of which 
he was proud : of his wife, because, in her day, she 
had been admired by George IV., and of an old um- 
brella in his possession, because Mendelssohn had 
on one occasion borrowed it of him. 

He was very fond of playing the concertina, and 
gave a musical soiree once a week. The evening 
on which the latinskys were to make their first ap- 

154 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


155 


pearance at the Ellis’, Tulpin, the Russian amateur 
genius who had arranged the musical background 
of the Ilsenbergh tableaux, performed a new opera 
which he had composed to a French libretto on a 
Russian subject. Of course he was one of those 
Russians who combine a boundless predilection for 
everything Slavic with the pious wish to be taken, 
wherever they appear, for native Parisians. 

The grand piano rang again beneath his hands. 
Various old acquaintances from “ Orfee k I’Enfer” 
and “ Le Manage k la Lanterne” were rocked on 
a sea of sonorous tremolos. From time to time 
Tulpin called out to his audience in explanation : 
“Now the Czar speaks — the Bo jar speaks — the peas- 
ant speaks” — or “ the rushing of the wind in the 
Caucasus — the foaming of the Terek!” 

Mr. Ellis, who believed in Tulpin’s opera, cried 
from time to time: “Glorious — glorious! You 
must work up that opera — it is too good for a mere 
sketch!” 

“Work?” sighed Tulpin with delicate irony 
“work? That is not my affair. We have ideas! 
But the work — that we leave to — hm — hm — to 
others. Please remember that I cannot read a 
note — actually, not a note,” he repeated with in- 
describable self-sufficiency. 

Upon this he dashed off a few rough arpeggios, 
and Mr. Ellis once more cried: “Astonishing!” 
and compared him to Mendelssohn, at which Tul- 
pin, who belonged to the School of the Future, 
took offence. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


156 

A prize-crowned musician from the Villa Medici, 
who had been waiting for an hour to perform his 
“ Sinfonie Arabe," muttered to himself : “ Pour V amour 
du del, laissez-nous la musique pour nous consoler de 
n Hr e pas grand seigneur T' 

At last Lady Julia rose and compassionately in- 
vited her guests to take a cup of tea. Her propo- 
sition was readily accepted. Soon the music-room 
was nearly empty. The only persons who re- 
mained near the piano were Mme. Tulpin from 
love, the prize-crowned musician from annoyance, 
and Mr. Ellis from a sense of duty. In the adjoin- 
ing rooms people were refreshing themselves with 
tea and conversation ; but for some time a low-spir- 
ited feeling seemed to pervade the whole company. 
Depression had broken out among the guests like 
an epidemic, and there was a lively discussion as to 
the pleasantest mode of committing suicide. 

Tulpin played on indefatigably ; suddenly, how- 
ever, he stopped. The latinskys had 'made their 
appearance in the salon. The eyes of all were 
turned upon them. They were so interesting that 
even Tulpin left the piano. on their account. 

They all three smiled pleasantly, one might say 
graciously. Countess Ilsenbergh had prepared them 
for the promiscuous character of foreign society in 
Rome. They felt their superiority, but concealed 
their self-consciousness beneath the most courteous 
affability. 

The two young countesses were immediately 
surrounded, besieged, and, strange to say, they 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


157 


caused even a greater sensation among the ladies 
on this occasion than among the gentlemen. Every- 
thing about them was admired : their tiny feet, their 
characteristic profiles, so delicate and so sharply 
defined, their improbably small waists, the color of 
their hair, the artistic simplicity of their toilet. 
Wagers were laid as to whether their dresses came 
from Fanet’s or from Worth’s. 

Suddenly a slight commotion arose in the ad- 
joining apartment — such as is apt to be caused by 
the advent of some favorite in society. Zinka, 
without her mother, escorted only by Cecil, entered 
the room, and, with a cordial greeting, held out 
her slender hand to the lady of the house. 

"‘You are an incorrigible laggard; you always 
come too late,” said Lady Julia in kindly reproach. 

“Like repentance and the police,” answered 
Zinka gayly, upon which her hostess introduced her 
to Countess latinsky. “ But now you must help 
me a little in serving tea,” Lady Julia continued ; 
“you know I always count upon you. First of all, 
please pour out a cup for each of your charming 
young countrywomen there.” 

Polyxena and Nini were seated at a short dis- 
tance from her, surrounded by a crowd of gentle- 
men, young and old. Zinka was approaching them 
with her winning charm of manner, when Sempaly 
happened to come up, and found himself so suddenly 
face to face with her that he could not avoid shaking 
hands with her, nor resist the temptation of speaking 
to her. Of course he did what every one else would 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


158 

have done in his place, he said the most awkward 
thing which he could possibly have said — namely : 

I have not seen you in a long time.” 

Slightly throwing back her head, she flashed at 
him a look of becoming defiance from her half- 
closed eyes, and replied : “ Have you been keeping 
up your Ash- Wednesday penance?” 

Perhaps so!” he said with an involuntary smile. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “ I really felt in- 
clined,” she continued, “to give you up entirely; 
but since I have become aware of the cause of your 
breach of faith” — glancing at his fair cousins — “ I 
can at least account for it. Will you have the 
goodness, now, to introduce me to these ladies?” 

“Fraulein Stertzl!” He had hardly pronounced 
the name, when a suppressed smile curled Polyxe- 
na’s lips. Zinka observed this smile, and also no- 
ticed a sudden change in Sempaly’s bearing, and 
that his face assumed an affected, intensely su- 
percilious expression. Pale as death, with flash- 
ing eyes, she returned only slightly the nods of 
the two countesses, and turned away. Stertzl, who, 
standing in a doorway talking with Truyn, had 
observed the occurrence from a distance, frowned 
angrily. 

In the mean time, Sempaly had seated himself on 
an ottoman beside his cousins, taking care to turn 
his back to the tea-table at which Zinka was en- 
gaged. 

“So that is the famous Zenai’de Stertzl?” said 
Polyxena archly. “ Your taste is not so bad, Nicki, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 59 

But how she spoke to you ! That was going a little 
too far.” 

He did not reply. 

‘‘ She actually disposes of you as if you already 
belonged to her.” 

“ Do be careful, Xena!” remonstrated Nini, trying 
to check her sister’s love of raillery; “don’t talk 
so loud.” 

Soon after this Mr. Ellis came to say that Mr. B., 
the prix de miisique^ would now perform his “ Sin- 
fonie Arabe.'" 

The company repaired to the music-room. After 
Mr. B. had finished, several other interesting per- 
formances followed. A young Belgian count, who 
spent the whole of his leisure time in composing 
funeral-marches, and could, besides, sing canzonettas 
and chansonettes such as are no longer heard any- 
where but in the streets of Florence or the cafh- 
chantants of Paris, took his place at the piano and exe- 
cuted a love-duet between a cock and a hen with so 
much expression that he was rewarded with loud 
applause from all present — in particular the latin- 
skys, to whom, this style of music was quite new. 

Mrs. Ferguson next sang some Paris couplets^ 
and Mr. Ellis played an adagio by Beethoven on 
the concertina, after which Zinka was asked to 
sing. 

“ What shall I sing? you know my ripertoirey' she 
said to Mr. Ellis with forced gayety. 

“Please sing one of your ' stornelliy' '' begged 
Siegburg, approaching the piano “ the ‘ Vieni 


l6o THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

Maggio, vieni primavera.'' Lady Ellis seconded 
his request. 

Zinka laid her fingers on the keys, and began — 
somewhat veiled, but sweet like that of a forest-bird, 
her voice vibrated through the hall. She had never 
yet begun that song in company, but what he had 
come to her side after the first bars, from the most 
distant corner of whatever room they were in. In- 
voluntarily she looked up and sought him with her 
eyes. There he sat on a small sofa beside his 
cousin Polyxena, leaning back in a very easy at- 
titude, one leg crossed over the other, holding his 
ankle with his hand, and smiling at something 
which the young countess was whispering to him. 

Zinka was completely disconcerted. A paralyz- 
ing feeling of mortification came over her. She 
could no longer sing that song before him. Her 
voice failed her. She forgot the accompaniment, 
tried to strike a few chords, and rose suddenly. 
*‘I cannot sing to-night,” she stammered. 

Polyxena made some further malicious remark. 

Sempaly was vexed thereat, and was on the point 
of leaving her, in order to console Zinka for her 
failure, but before he could make up his mind to 
do so, Nini had risen. In spite of her shyness, she 
crossed the room to Zinka and said a few kind 
words to her. 

Sempaly kept his seat. But When, as they were 
leaving, he was putting Nini’s wrap over her 
shoulders, he murmured: “You are a dear good 
girl, Nini/’ And then he kissed her hand. 


CHAPTER X. 


Sempaly’s attentions had brought Zinka into 
fashion ; his sudden cessation of not only these at- 
tentions, but of almost all relations with her, of 
course made her the subject of much scandal. 
There was a great deal of talk about the excellent 
caricature of Stertzl and his sister which Sempaly 
had sketched that evening at Princess Vulpini’s. 
Madame de Gandry, who had formerly been the ob- 
ject of Sempaly’s attentions, but had subsequently 
been neglected by him for Zinka’s sake, showed this 
caricature to her acquaintances with the most ma- 
licious explanations. There was a general laugh 
against the little adventuress, who had come to 
Rome with the intention of securing a closed coro- 
net, and who now was obliged to submit to such 
profound humiliation. 

The leaders of Roman society, of course, vied 
with those of the foreign circles in entertaining the 
latinskys. Countess Gandry began the round of 
ovations with a soiree, at which Madame Ristori 
was to declaim. Stertzl was of course invited. 
His mother and sister were passed over. It was the 
first time since Zinka’s d^but at the Ilsenberghs, 
that she was not included in any select assembly. 
Many of the foreign ladies followed Madame de Gan- 

n i6i 


1 62 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

dry’s example, thus intending, like her, to display 
their exclusiveness before the Austrian countesses, 
and at the same time repay Zinka for many a little 
saucy speech which they had been obliged to put 
up with from her while she still belonged to the 
favorites of society and the leaders of the ton. 

True Roman society naturally did not pay the 
slightest attention to all these trifles, and treated 
Zinka with exactly the same superficial courtesy as 
heretofore. She noticed that courtesy as little as 
the pin -pricks to which she was subjected from 
other quarters. If her feeling for Sempaly had not 
been so serious, she certainly would have been deep- 
ly hurt at all the little social humiliations with which 
she was constantly meeting at this time. But her 
great sorrow had blunted her against such things as 
these. There is a grief which mockery cannot 
reach ! No matter whether she was invited or not, 
she could not make up her mind to go into so- 
ciety any more. The thought of again meeting 
Sempaly with his cousins anywhere filled her with 
mortal terror. 

She had become a different creature. An intimi- 
dated smile was constantly hovering upon her lips, 
like the ghost of a dead joy ; her motions had lost 
all elasticity ; her walk now reminded one constantly 
of that of an angel dragging its wings. 

Baroness Stertzl, of course, continued to frequent 
the Corso, and took pains to bow to all the society 
ladies with astonishing perseverance ; she also went 
into company alone, whenever it suited h^r, The 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 63 

consciousness of being at odds with Countess Gan- 
dry, and yet on visiting terms with all the Roman 
duchesses, was a proud one, after all. 

The only thing which troubled her at this time 
was the cross-questioning of her very indiscreet 
sister Wolnitzky with regard to the state of affairs 
between Zinka and Sempaly. 

Madame Stertzl had herself, from mere idle 
boastfulness, given her sister to understand, on the 
day after her arrival, ‘‘that Zinka’s engagement 
was only not yet made public.” The indelicate 
allusions of her aunt would have driven Zinka to 
the verge of insanity, had not Siegburg, fortu- 
nately, and perhaps out of compassion for her, told 
the Wolnitzkys one evening, when he met them 
at the Palazetto, such horrible stories about Roman 
fever, that, seized with a senseless panic, they left 
Rome the next morning for Naples. 

Strange to say, the one who felt most deeply the 
sudden hostile change of society toward his family 
was Stertzl. Hitherto he had always thought too 
nobly to torment himself with any small envy of 
caste, and had, at the same time, cherished too sen- 
sible, serious, and manly a self-consciousness ever 
to manifest any of that repulsive sensitiveness 
which often renders the intercourse with civilians 
difficult even for the best-disposed aristocrats. 

Democratic spleen is a sickness which almost 
every civilian — beginning with Werther — has to 
pass through if fate has placed him in aristocratic 


64 


THE HAND OF DESTINY, 


circles. Stertzl, however, had lived in these cir- 
cles so long that he ought to have been acclimated. 
But no — he had a sudden attack, and, as is the 
case with all children’s diseases which seize upon 
adults, it took a very violent form. He attributed 
his adored sister’s sorrow, not to his own impru- 
dence and Sempaly’s weakness of character, but 
solely to tyrannical social prejudices. He perse- 
cuted society from that time with the most invid- 
ious contempt, and made himself generally disa- 
greeable. Perfectly well-bred, and accustomed 
from his youth to the smallest exactions of de- 
corum, his manners could never become quite bad, 
but they became as bad as they could. Overbear- 
ing, irritable, without the slightest courtesy, he 
was constantly involved in all sorts of controversies 
and quarrels. 

At home, too, he was very different from what 
he had been. His pride was terribly hurt by the 
fact that Zinka was so little able to conceal her sor- 
row; and he felt humiliated, because it was beyond 
his power to alleviate it. 

At first he tried to divert her mind ; he brought 
her tickets for the theatre and for concerts, and 
gave her the handsomest, most precious articles of 
jewelry, as well as antique, artistically valuable 
porcelain curios, carvings in ivory, and many other 
similar things, which formerly had been her heart’s 
desire. Then she would have been wild with joy 
at these beautiful gifts ; now she smiled at them 
with the gratitude of an invalid to whom a delicacy 


THE hand of destiny. i6^ 

is offered of which he can no longer partake. One 
could always see what pains she took to feel pleased, 
and at the same time her eyes would be full of 
tears. 

This drove Stertzl beside himself. At first he 
had strictly avoided saying a single word in allusion 
to Sempaly. But when days, even weeks, passed 
by without producing any change in her depressed 
manner, he became impatient. He conceived the 
notion of opening Zinka’s eyes with regard to Sem- 
paly. Energetic and inclined to press forward as 
he was, he had invariably recovered speedily from 
his disappointments, however deeply they had 
affected him. He had always calmly “let that 
fall which would not stand,” and then had been 
able to build up a new world for himself. 

To see clearly had always been the main thing 
with him; truth was his religion. He could not 
understand that, to a character like Zinka’s, illusions 
were necessary ; nor that she even now attributed 
the change in Sempaly to the circumstances in 
which he was placed, to her own insignificance, to 
everything but to his own wish; that she felt 
the need of being able to love him still, even if he 
were lost to her forever. His rigid nature could 
not understand Zinka’s tender, constantly fluctuat- 
ing inner life. 

She never replied to the disparaging, contempt- 
uous words which he applied to Sempaly on every 
occasion, but listened in silence, and looked, with 
her shy, frightened eyes and pale cheeks, like a 


166 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. 


dying martyr whom her tormentors are trying to 
convince that there is no God. 

The brilliant result which Cecil achieved by his 
well-meant blunders was a temporary complete 
estrangement between himself and his sister — an ' 
estrangement which in his case was only on the 
surface, but which affected her more seriously. 

All this of course contributed to intensify Stertzl’s 
hatred of Sempaly. 

They were obliged to meet every day ; they were 
constantly at odds with each other. 

Stertzl made the most cutting remarks regarding 
some slight negligence of which Sempaly had been 
guilty in his work. He spoke sneeringly of the ig- 
norance of a young relative of Sempaly ’s, who had 
lately been attached to the legation. “ To be sure, ” 
he then closed his invective, “to be sure, we in 
Austria are far more particular that an attach^ 
should be of good family than that he should write 
and spell correctly.” 

This was a specimen of the rude impertinence 
to which he now allowed himself to give way. 

Without ever losing his equanimity, Sempaly 
would smile languidly at such a remark, and per- 
haps reply, in his singing voice: “You are right; 
it is strange that such prejudices should still exist 
among us. Hm! we ought to follow the example 
of the French corps diplomatique — don’t you think 
so?” 

This referred to a sarcastic article which had 
appeared in Figaro, the day before, concerning the’ 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 6 / 

latest blunder of a plebeian representative of tbe 
republic at some court of Europe. 

Well, Senipaly might have said something even 
more supercilious, but the more delicate his irony 
the more surely did Stertzl’s irritation increase. 


CHAPTER XL 


Countess Iatinsky spent most of the time of 
her stay in Rome on her lounge. When she was 
asked how she liked Rome, she would answer that 
she found it very fatiguing ; if the same question was 
put to her daughters, they, on the contrary, would 
declare that they were delighted with it. 

Sempaly knew perfectly well that the chief at- 
traction for them in Rome was no other than their 
good-for-nothing cousin. And, indeed, he made 
himself very agreeable to them ; alternately praised 
and disapproved of their dress; made, with his own 
hands, becoming changes in their coiffures, faith- 
fully reported all the conquests which they had 
made, and gave them presents of cigarettes and ex- 
pensive articles of jewelry from Castellan! ’s. 

When he had nothing else to do he would go 
with them, of course in the company of an older 
lady, to some gallery or church. Polyxena had a 
very characteristic way of rushing past the grand- 
est masterpieces with her little nose high up in the 
air, and suddenly directing attention, with a laugh, 
to the absurdly fqolish remark of some tourist which 
she happened to have overheard, or to some eccen- 
tricity of costume which she had discovered. Nini 
took a more serious view of art — looked at every- 

i68 


tHE HAND OF DEStiNY. 1 69 

tiling- in strict adherence to the catalogue, and 
even kept a travelling-diary. 

Polyxena was generally considered the hand- 
somer and more intellectual of the two sisters. 
Sempaly apparently paid her the most attention, 
but he decidedly preferred Nini. The time which 
he could not devote to his cousins he spent almost 
exclusively at the hunting-club, where he lost enor- 
mous sums at play. At the same time he looked 
ill, and complained of having touches of Roman 
fever. 

What did the world say to his conduct? Italian 
society, phlegmatic as ever, took no notice of it. 
Mesdames Ferguson and Gandry laughed at it. 
Siegburg pronounced it abominable, and Ilsenbergh 
declared that, to say the least, it showed great want 
of tact. The general opinion was that he ought 
to have had himself transferred. 

Princess Vulpini had long, compassionate con- 
ferences with the artist-general, reproached herself 
bitterly for not having realized the situation sooner, 
nor, indeed, having taken particular notice of Sem- 
paly’s very marked attentions to Zinka, because she 
had been solely interested in Siegburg ’s efforts in 
the same direction, and taken the most motherly 
pleasure in the prospective “good match” which 
she hoped would result therefrom. 

Truyn was quite beside himself at Sempaly’s 
heartlessness. Only those who, during a period of 
deep, and at the same time bitterly humiliating 
sorrow, have had beside them a noble, delicately 


170 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


sympathetic friend, can realize what Truyn was to 
Zinka at this time. He was the only one who never 
gave her pain in those dark days. He had the del- 
icate touch and the boundless tenderness of feeling 
which the best of us only acquire through bitter, 
heartfelt sorrow. 

Every afternoon he would come with his little 
daughter to take Zinka for a walk, because he 
knew that the Corso drive would be agony for her 
now. And -while the baroness, leaning indolently 
back in her carriage, drove through the Villa Bor- 
ghese and over the Pincio with the fashionable 
crowd, these three — ^sometimes the general would 
make a fourth — would ramble about in quiet, dreamy 
convent gardens, or take long drives through the 
Campagna. 

Not once did Truyn cost her a secret tear and 
many a painful blush, which some thoughtless re- 
mark of one of her companions called to her thin 
cheek, he helped her overcome. 

On a sultry afternoon in spring, Truyn and his 
two daughters — as he was wont to call Zinka and 
Gabrielle in jest — together with the artist-general, 
were sauntering, on their return from a long walk, 
through some of the dark and picturesque streets 
which wind around the Pantheon. 

The surroundings were poor and wrretched ; over 
a garden-wall there peeped a mulberry-tree, which 
already showed the first faint green of spring, 
while a blackbird was singing in its branches. A 


THE HANH of DESTIN\f; 


I7I 

couple of scarlet geraniums sent out their* glowing 
color from a rusty barred window into the brown 
monotony around about. Above the roofs the sky 
was of a deep, deep blue. The air was sultry and 
oppressive, and filled with an unpleasant odor of 
the gutter and stale vegetables. Behind a window 
a woman’s voice was singing a sad, tender love- 
song. Suddenly both the blackbird and the woman 
ceased singing ; a doleful wailing and moaning re- 
sounded through the lonely street, and black smoke 
darkened the air. 

Zinka, very nervous, as she had grown to be of 
late, started violently. “ It is nothing — only a fu- 
neral,” said Truyn, as he removed his hat. 

And then it appeared — a Roman funeral, pictur- 
esque and dismal — a long procession of men, in 
gloomy disguise : a bag over their heads with only 
two holes cut for the eyes, a rope tied around their 
waists, bearing torches or curious banners deco- 
rated with the insignia of death ; a crowd of bare- 
footed monks; finally the coffin, covered with a 
bright yellow pall, and carried by other muffled 
figures, bending under its weight. Add to this 
the reddish flare and the black smoke of the torches, 
the lugubrious singing, the flashing of eyes from 
the slits in the head-pieces — ghostly, and sur- 
rounded by a mingled odor of decay and of in- 
cense, like a piece of mediaeval life arisen from the 
dead — thus the procession passed through the nar- 
row street. 

Half-fainting, Zinka stood beside Truyn. 


172 


THE kAND OF i)ESTlNV\ 


Gabrielle, who, like all children, was proportion- 
ally little affected by the scene, followed the fu- 
neral with inquisitive eyes, and soon commenced a 
conversation with an old woman of the people in 
her ready, incorrect Italian. 

“Who is being buried there?” she asked, after 
having made several other remarks. 

“ Una donnaU was the answer. 

“Was she young?” Gabrielle asked again. 

“ Sir 

“And what did she die of — fever?” 

''Nor the Roman woman shrugged her shoul- 
ders, and then said, in the melodious drawl of the 
Roman people, passioner 

The procession had passed, the moaning had 
died away, the blackbird sang again. 

The party went on, Truyn in front, with Zinka, 
who was weary, leaning on his arm ; behind them 
the lively child and the general. 

" Passione / Is that a Roman sickness?” asked 
Gabrielle, with her unquenchable thirst for knowl- 
edge, of the general. 

“No, it is found everywhere,” replied the gen- 
eral dryly. 

“But only among poor people, is it not?” con- 
tinued Gabrielle. ^ 

“ No, it appears in higher circles, too — only there 
it is called by another name,” said the general with 
thoughtless bitterness, more to himself than to the 
child. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


173 

“Why, is it a disgrace to die of it?” asked the 
child, opening her eyes wide. 

Suddenly the general noticed that Zinka was lis- 
tening. At the child’s foolish question she bowed 
her head. 

His mind would have been totally paralyzed on 
such an occasion ; he would not have known what 
to say to the poor, humiliated girl. With Truyn, 
however, it was different. He bent down and 
whispered a few words to her. What he said the 
general could not understand, but it must have been 
something very kind and good — something that, 
without relating to what had happened, showed 
her how highly he valued and esteemed her, for 
she answered him quite calmly. Then he talked 
about one thing and another, told her reminiscences 
of his youth, pleasant little characteristic stories 
about his parents, and other matters of the kind, 
such as a wounded heart can enjoy, and when he 
took leave of her at the portal of the Palazetto, she 
was smiling. 

“ If he has not the most intellectual head in the 
world, he has certainly the kindest of hearts,” 
muttered the general to himself as they parted. 

Several times Truyn took Zinka for a ride in the 
Campagna. At first she enjoyed this. But one 
day they met Sempaly, who, with his two lovely 
cousins, was gayly galloping over the plain strewed 
with anemones, From that time she sought for 


174 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


pretexts and avoided the Campagna. As if she 
were not always liable to meet him with them 
anywhere ! 

Why did she stay in Rome? Stertzl would not 
consent to her leaving, because in his opinion such 
a departure would have been regarded by scandal- 
monging Roman society as a retreat after a lost 
battle. For a very different reason, the baroness 
too objected to any abbreviation of their sojourn in 
Rome. She had hired the Palazetto until the fif- 
teenth of May. 

And did Zinka really wish to go? 

She often spoke of her longing for home; but 
every time that their departure from Rome was 
mentioned she became agitated. She dreaded to 
meet him, and yet she longed to do so. And 
when, in the evening, she was sitting in the draw- 
ing-room of the Palazetto with a few acquain- 
tances — Truyn came every night, Siegburg very 
often — the former noticed that, every time she 
heard the house-door close, she would start and fix 
her eyes expectantly upon the portiere. 

In her poor heart there still lived a kind of hope, 
a weary hope, sick unto death, which was no longer 
anything but a feeling of disquiet — of pain. 


PART III. 


EASTER. 


CHAPTER L 

Holy Week in Rome! And everywhere the full 
splendor of an Italian spring, pervaded by glowing 
sunshine ! 

Even into the mystic half-light of St. Peter’s the 
spring-rays find their way, flicker for a moment on 
the holy water in the basins, glide over the gigan- 
tic cherubs, the complicated grandeur of the stat- 
ues, and the delicate inlaid pattern of the pavement ; 
all this with the cold glitter of a beam of light 
which is refracted by the smooth hardness of 
marble. 

The hours pass, one after another — the long, 
devout hours of Holy Wednesday in Rome. Then 
the last ray of light fades away, mysterious dark- 
ness fills the Cathedral of St. Peter’s, and about all 
its splendor there hovers, as it were, a transparent 
mourning- veil. 

The hard, stony outlines are no longer to be seen ; 
the whole vast temple seems to be built up of 
shadows, and, as it grows darker and darker, more 

175 


76 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


and more vague, a sacred mystery seems to glide 
from the heavens to the earth. 

Zinka is kneeling in the Papal Chapel between 
Truyn and Gabrielle, her eyes fixed upon her 
tightly clasped hands, as she prays with the fanati- 
cism of a young heart whose exaltation, banished 
from earth, tries to find a support in heaven. 

Right and left, clad in gorgeous sacerdotal vest- 
ments, sit the church dignitaries in their carved 
stalls; indiscreet foreigners, curious, undevout, 
crowd each other at their feet. 

In a harshly modulated recitative the tragedy of 
the Passion is borne through the sacred space. 

The last of the twelve candles beside the altar is 
extinguished. The ''Miserere niei," resounds with 
awful power; then, appalling, and yet wondrous 
sweet, now dying away in a trembling breath, and 
then again rising to a terrible cry of agony, a strain 
breaks the great silence, giving expression, as it 
were, to the full anguish of the God of love at 
the sorrow from, which it was not in His power to 
exempt man. Before the majesty of this great, 
unselfish divine grief small human woes bend the 
knee. 

Zinka bows her head. All is over. 

The last tone has died away in a sob . The crowd 
follows the procession which passes through the 
church, a cardinal at its head. Truyn and the two 
young girls leave the chapel and approach the por- 
tal. Behind them the steps of the procession, ren- 
dered indistinct by their own. reverberation, sound 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


77 


like the rushing of angels’ wings. In the midst of 
this solemn peace Zinka’s heart has fallen asleep; 
for the first time in many weeks she has forgotten. 

“Very interesting, but the basso was hoarse.” 

It is Polyxena latinsky who pronounces this 
rather summary criticism of the impressive cere- 
mony. 

Zinka looks up ; Sempaly, with his aunt and his 
cousins, is close beside her. They have witnessed 
the ceremony from the seats reserved for the diplo- 
matic corps. 

Involuntarily, in order to avoid a meeting, Zinka 
presses toward the entrance, but Gabrielle has run 
to meet the ladies. Remarks are exchanged ; the 
latinsky s are very cordial toward Zinka on this oc- 
casion ; even Polyxena shakes hands with her. 
Sempaly alone remains at a distance. 

As they leave the church, the air feels cool, al- 
most sharp, to Zinka. She shivers. Just then 
she hears a well-known voice close beside her, say- 
ing rather brusquely: “You are too thinly dressed, 
and there is fever in the air. Throw this thing 
around you,” and with this Sempaly places an 
extra wrap which he had been carrying over his 
arm for his cousins, on her shoulders. 

“Thank you, I am not cold; the ladies will want 
this scarf,” exclaims Zinka hastily, trying to re- 
turn it to him. 

Polyxena is silent, and probably finds it strange 
that her cousin, from anxiety for a stranger, should 
forget to consider whether his cousins may not be 


178 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


exposing themselves to catching cold. Nini, how- 
ever, cries, with her eager good-nature : “No, no, 
Fraulein Stertzl, we do not need it at all.” 

Truyn’s servant, who has been looking for him, 
now announces that his carriage is waiting. 

And while Zinka, wrapped in Nini’s crepe-de- 
chine shawl, and seated beside Gabrielle, drives 
along between the plashing fountains, then over 
the Bridge of St. Angelo and through the lonely, 
badly lit streets toward the Palazetto, all her pulses 
are beating anew, and the stars in the blue sky 
above shine with unnatural brilliancy. Her grief 
has risen again, and with it the dreadful alluring 
ghost of all the joys which she has lost. Oh, heavens ! 
how distinctly she remembers it all ! how distinctly ! 
the long, dreamy afternoons on the Palatine, the 
delicious hours in the lonely Corsini gardens — 
there under the plane-trees, by the fountain, where 
he told her about Erzburg, while the fragrance of 
the violet and the iris rose up to them with such 
enervating sweetness ; the sound of his voice, the 
touch of his light, slender hand, his peculiar way 
of pronouncing certain words, of looking at her 
on certain occasions. 

She is once more wandering in the Vatican with 
him beside her, past the long rows of pale statues, 
intoxicated with beauty. Monotonous and dreamy 
sounds the plashing of the fountains of the Belve- 
dere. Golden rays of light glide over the marble . 
pavement like shining footprints which the gods > 
left behind them when they mounted their pedes- i 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


179 


tals ; and through the lofty corridors there resounds 
a mysterious rushing and whispering, as of far 
distant spirit- voices. 

And once — it was in the garden of San Onofrio, 
and a soft mist, illumined by the sun, veiled the 
atmosphere. At their feet, wrapped in vapor, in- 
distinct and phantom-like, as if pervaded by the 
spirit of dead beauty, lay Rome — Rome, the great 
reliquary of the world ; Rome, upon whose monu- 
ments and ruins all human vices and virtues have 
fixed their stamp, and where the tragedies of an- 
tiquity greet the tragedy of Calvary, 

They had long looked down upon it together; 
suddenly she had missed a little bunch of violets 
which she wore at her breast, and, as she was look- 
ing about for it, she noticed that he had secretly 
taken up the flowers, and now was pressing them 
to his lips. Her eyes met his. 

Yes, he had loved her, truly loved her, and 
loved her still — she knew it. She told herself that, 
impulsive, excitable as he was, any chance, how- 
ever trifling, might bring him back to her. 

She did not ask herself whether it was worth her 
while to long so madly for one who was influenced 
by every slight breath of wind ! 

In the midst of the torturing phantom-dance of 
her love-reminiscences — in the midst of the clatter- 
ing of the horses’ hoofs and the rattling of the 
wheels on the rough pavement, there rings in her 
ears the Miserere meiT' 

But it no longer turns her thoughts to the God 


i8o 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


who died for the redemption of mankind. The 
strongest angels’ wings cannot bear us to heaven as 
long as our heart draws us down to earth. 

“Good-night,” she said absently, kissing Gabri- 
elle, as the carriage stopped before the Palazetto. 

“ Will you let me have Nini’s shawl for Gabri- 
elle,” asks Truyn, retaining her. “ I fear my little 
comrade has caught cold.” 

“Good heavens!” cries Zinka in alarm, and then 
wraps the shawl around Gabrielle with motherly 
care and kisses her repeatedly ; “ shall I ever cease 
to think of myself alone?” she asks herself in angry 
humiliation. 


CHAPTER 11. 


Holy Week is over. The Catholic church-bells, 
quiescent in gloomy silence at the remembrance of 
the great tragedy of Mount Calvary, move anew 
their iron tongues. It is Easter Monday. 

Representations of the Resurrection executed in 
the most manifold material — sugar, wax, soap, etc. — 
decorate the shop-windows of all the confectioners, 
soap-dealers, and other tradesmen of Rome. Bar- 
oness Wolnitzky has returned from Naples re- 
freshed, in good spirits, and more enterprising than 
ever. Not only did she have herself photographed 
among the ruins of Pompeii, leaning in a poetic 
position against a column, but she also made the 
ascent of Mt. Vesuvius with the aid of two guides 
and an unusually sturdy mule, notwithstanding the 
difficulties presented by her stoutness. Thanks to 
the nephew of a cardinal, with whom she scraped 
acquaintance on the train, on the strength of the 
possibility of putting him to some use, she has at 
last succeeded in obtaining, if not an audience with 
the Pope, yet the permission to attend a private 
mass conducted by his holiness ; to have the privil- 
ege of receiving the communion from his hands 
in company with perhaps three hundred other 
Catholics. 

i8i 


182 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


This morning she has been to the Palazetto in 
order to take leave of her sister Clotilde and ask a 
last discreet question about Sempaly, and at the 
same time give a detailed report of the ceremony 
at the Vatican and deliver an address on the philo- 
sophical significance of the communion in general. 

Slava, whose Catholicism just now is beginning 
to verge on the fanatical, and who on Holy Satur- 
day has heroically climbed the Scala Santa on her 
knees, completes her mother’s report by the follow- 
ing interesting detail : ‘‘ It w’as very exclusive ; we 
were entirely among ourselves — only a few Polish 
families of high social standing. I wore my black 
satin dress with the jet embroidery, and I heard a 
gentleman behind me say : ‘ That lady is the only 
one whose veil is arranged tastefully!’ ” 

Stertzl has not made his appearance during the 
call of his aunt and cousin. Zinka listens to their 
report with an absent smile, and Baroness Clotilde 
plies her sister with questions. 

Then the Wolnitzkys hasten away to attend the 
consecration of a bishop, the invitation to which they 
also owe to the nephew of the cardinal, and at the 
close of which the ladies are to be presented with 
flowers and refreshments in the sacristy. 

It was about six o’clock when the general entered 
the salon of the Palazetto. The apartment of late 
no longer gave the charming, cosey impression that 
it formerly did. The furniture was arranged with 
awkward symmetry according to the pedantic taste 


the hand of destiny. 183 

of the footman, and the vases, formerly so pictur- 
esquely filled, now contained nothing but common 
bouquets of violets and magnolias. Zinka no longer 
thought of arranging the flowers. 

“ How glad I am that you have come just to-day !” 
she cried, when their visitor appeared; her large, 
shining eyes and bright red lips betrayed that she 
was suffering from that insupportable slow spring 
fever which, on mild days in April and May, causes 
such maddening pain to excitable young hearts. 

She was sitting beside Cecil on the small crimson 
divan, where she had so often sat with Sempaly. 
Not far from them the baroness leaned back in an 
easy-chair and fanned herself. Her whole manner 
was pervaded by a sort of triumphant solemnity. 
Cecil, too, was evidently excited, though he ap- 
peared on that account no less natural than usual. 

“How are you, general? Very unpleasant, 
sultry weather,’’ lisped the baroness. “It seems 
incredible that you should find us all at home at 
this hour; but it is just because we all have a great 
horror of the crowds in the streets on a holiday 
afternoon.” 

“O mamma,” Zinka interrupted, “It is not only 
on account of the holiday crowd that we stayed at 
home, but because we all wanted to enjoy our good 
fortune together. Is not that so, Cecil?” 

He nodded and passed his hand over her head, 
“ It is, Zini,” he replied. 

“Only think, uncle — you may have heard that 
Cecil’s book on Persia has made a great sensation; 


THE HAND OE DESTINY. 


1S4 

but that is not all. He has been appointed charge 
d'affaires to Constantinople!” 

The general congratulated Stertzl, and shook 
hands with him cordially. 

“ I could not have wished for a better position,” 
said the latter ; “ there is a good deal to be done 
there, and a chance for a man to accomplish some- 
thing and to rise.” 

He took honest pleasure in the distinction which 
had fallen to him, without making any pretence of 
arrogant indifference. 

In five years you wdll be ambassador,” said the 
general, with that encouraging exaggeration which 
is never wanting on such occasions. 

“Hardly so soon,” replied Stertzl with a laugh ; 
“ but I certainly hope to make my mark in the course 
of time. Shall you be proud of me, butterfly,” he 
continued, turning to Zinka, “ when I am addressed 
as Your Excellency?” 

“I am proud of you now,” Zinka assured him. 
“You know how vain I am, and how much I think 
of such things.” 

It vras the first time in months that the general 
had seen the brother and sister on such good terms 
with each other. He rejoiced thereat. 

“The climate is favorable,” Stertzl went on; “it 
is called the finest in all Europe. And there are 
said to be very agreeable people among the small 
foreign colony. It will interest you, Zini, to study 
Oriental matters from a bird’s-eye point of view, and 
the change of air will do you good.” 


THE HAND OF DESTINV. I §5 

“Are you going to take me with you?” she' asked, 
suddenly turning pale. 

“ Why, of course. The Bay of Constantinople is 
most beautiful, Zini — and we will often row out to 
sea, and in the fall, if I have time, we will make 
a short excursion to Greece. What a much-trav- 
elled little lady you will be, Zini!” He good- 
naturedly raised her chin with his forefinger, and 
looked into her emaciated face with anxious tender- 
ness. Every trace of color had fled from it. The 
brilliancy which her joy at her brother’s success 
had called to Zinka’s blue eyes had faded. 

“It will be beautiful,” she said wearily, “very 
beautiful. I thank you, Cecil — you are so kind. 
When will we leave?” 

“We can start in a week. The sea- voyage will 
not tire you very much ; you can rest in Athens. 
During the hot season we will go to the mountains.” 
Suddenly looking at her keenly, the expression of 
his face changed; he frowned and said almost 
roughly : “ If you do not wish to go, you can stay 
here; I don’t want to force you to anything.” 

Just then the maid appeared to say that a box 
had arrived from the station. 

“Our new ball-dresses 1” exclaimed the baroness 
excitedly; “ I am only glad that they have come in 
time ; I should have been in despair if we had had 
no new dresses for the Brancaleones’ ball. It would 
have seemed like a slight to the princess. I won- 
der what novelties Fanet has invented ! ” W ith this 
the silly woman rustled out of the room. 


186 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


In the mean time Zinka — she looked like olie con- 
demned to death who has just learned the day of 
her execution — continued with a ghastly smile, 
restlessly twisting her fingers: “Of course I wish 
to go, Cecil — how can you — and we can start a 
week from Wednesday — Wednesday will be the 
best day — but now I should like to look at my new 
dress. Don’t laugh at me, uncle! I want to make 
myself look as pretty as I can for my last appear- 
ance.” 

With this she hurried away, knocking against a 
piece of furniture and throwing a book to the 
floor. She stopped, took up the book and opened 
it, put it down — then turned, laid her trans- 
parent hand on her brother’s shoulder hesitatingly, 
and as if she wanted to make amends for some 
wrong which she had done him — “Thank you,” 
she murmured: “I am glad, truly glad, and I am 
proud of you ; and ” 

He looked up at her; his eyes met hers, his face 
quivered with anger — the anger which large-heart- 
ed, unselfish, but despotic natures experience at not 
being able to make those happy whom they love. 
She was frightened at him, started, and crying, 
“Oh, my ball-dress!” hastened from the room. 

For a while unbroken silence reigned. 

Then the general asked : “ Is Zinka going to the 
Brancaleones’ to-morrow?” 

“ Yes,” replied Stertzl ; “ at least she has promised 
me that she would ; she may change her mind at 
the last moment, and stay at home, as she has done 


THEi HAND OF DESTINY. 


18 ; 


before. Of course, I cannot tell.” He drummed 
impatiently with his fingers on the table beside 
which he sat. 

“Well, she seems to be anticipating it with pleas- 
ure herself this time, ” observed the general. “ She 
seemed quite interested in her toilet.” 

“ Her toilet ! Why, she evidently did not know 
what she was talking about. She rushed from the 
room so that we should not see her tears,” cried 
Stertzl vehemently, losing all self-control. Then 
he gave the general a gloomy look, as if he were 
angry at having let out a secret. But the sorrow- 
ful face of the old gentleman seemed to calm him. 
“There is no use in trying to keep up appearances 
before you,” he said. “You would be blind if you 
had not seen how things are. All is over, general; 
her heart is broken !” 

He started from his seat, paced to and fro a few 
times, then stopped, made a helpless gesture with 
his hand, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered: 
“ There is no help for her — no help !” Then he sat 
down, and leaned his head on his hand. 

The general cleared his throat and sought for a 
word, without being able to utter anything but, “ It 
will all come right again; you must have patience.” 

“Patience!” repeated Stertzl with an indescrib- 
able expression, “patience! If I only could hope 
that things would come right. Look ! general : at 
first I was vexed that she showed it so plainly; I 
thought she ought to control herself more. But now, 
good heavens! she evidently does all she can, and 


i88 


The hand of destiny. 


1 


that her health is being- undermined — that is not her 
fault. If she would only fret — but no ; she never 
complains ; she is content with everything ; she no 
longer even contradicts her mother! And then — 
that is the worst of all — her room is over mine — I 
hear her at night, walking to and fro softly, very 
softly, as if she were afraid of waking some one, 
hour after hour ; and sometimes I hear her weep- 
ing; by day she never weeps!” He drew a deep 
breath. “ And if it were only some one who was 
worth it,” he continued, wrathfully; “but that con- 
temptible, unprincipled, blue-eyed scoundrel! I 
ought not to have taken her out of her sphere ; I ought 
never to have let her become so intimate with him. 
I know very well that he never would have been 
worthy of her, even if, as I imagined — you may 
laugh at my delusion as much as you like — he had 
had the condescension to take the matter seriously. 
Oh! you don’t know what it is to meet him every 
day, to hear him ask again and again : ‘ How are 
your ladies?’ It seems sometimes as if I should 
suffocate. I want to trample on him as if he were 
a worm, and yet I have to treat him civilly, and 
cannot even show that he has hurt me!” 

Just then the baroness re-entered the room. 
'' Super be said with her affected smile, '' su- 
perbe! Zinka has never had a dress yet that was so 
becoming to her!” 

“That is well,” remarked Cecil absently; “but 
where is Zinka?” 

“She is lying down; she has a bad headache,” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 89 

lisped his mother ; “ young girls cannot bear any- 
thing nowadays. When I was her age ” 

As the general was not in the mood to exchange 
youthful reminiscences with his affected friend, he 
took his leave. In the ante-room he grasped 
Stertzl’s hand warmly. “Fortune favors you,” he 
said ; “ you have a brilliant future before you ; and 
Zinka, amid her new, agreeable surroundings, will 
be sure to forget. Farewell 1 I anticipate much for 
you from your new life!” 

Alas 1 his new life I 


CHAPTER III. 


The Palazzo Brancaleone is one of the finest in 
Rome, and lies on the slope of the Quirinal. A 
particular object of admiration are its gardens, which . 
are laid out in terraces, and can be reached directly 
from the first story of the palace. 

Dancing was going on in a hall that was nearly 
square, adjoining which was a long, vaulted gallery, 
decorated partly with old pictures, partly with 
painted mirrors. Here and there the austere mar- 
ble of some antique statue stood out in relief against 
the richly colored ornamentation of the walls. 
Chandeliers of exquisite Venetian glass hung from 
the ceiling. At the end of this hall of mirrors 
two steps led into a small sanctuary, divided from 
the remaining space by columns, which contained 
the choicest jewels of the Brancaleone Gallery — 
unfortunately in the company of various modern 
absurdities. From here a door led into the garden. 

Zinka arrived late. A certain feverish excite- 
ment had temporarily restored to her features the 
freshness which they had lost, and her depressed 
timidity rendered her manner even more attractive 
than her former naive certainty of conquest. Her 
new dress, too, was exceedingly becoming to her. 

Evidently her former popularity had not ceased 
1^0 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. I9I 

entirely ; for very soon a small circle of Roman ex- 
quisites had gathered around her. The Countesses 
latinsky even lost a few of their admirers. 

Truyn was not present at the ball. The cold 
which his daughter had contracted during Holy 
Week, and which threatened to develop into a 
serious illness, kept him by the child’s bedside. 

Zinka, with her gliding movements, her head 
thrown slightly back, and her dreamy eyes, always 
looked very lovely when dancing. She created quite 
a sensation. The music, the festive brilliancy of 
the scene, the consciousness of being thought 
beautiful, all this raised her spirits. Searchingly 
her eyes glanced over the crowd — no, he was not 
there. 

Stertzl, who stood in a doorway talking to the 
general, rejoiced in the small triumphs and the 
lovely appearance of his sister. Many prominent 
personages congratulated him on the distinction 
which had been conferred upon him. He thanked 
them simply and heartily. It was one of his good 
days. Soon after midnight he disappeared, having 
been summoned to the Palazzo di Venezia on im- 
portant business, as the times just then were very 
unquiet. 

Soon after he left, Sempalymade his appearance. 
It was generally known that he had spent the previ- 
ous night in play — this was quite a new passion 
with him — and had lost heavily, and he looked 
worn and out of humor. Not very fond of dancing, 
he had so long delayed asking one of his pretty 


192 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


cousins for the german, that both were engaged. 
This was apparently so indifferent to him that Nini 
secretly shed tears thereat. 

Now, with his hands in his pockets, his eye-glass 
fixed in his eye, he was making malicious remarks 
concerning the figure of one or another of the ladies 
to some young men standing by him, and fancy- 
ing himself in the place of the legendary savage 
who witnesses, for the first time, the dancing at 
a European ball. Suddenly he became silent. 
Something had attracted his attention. The band 
was playing a waltz, very popular at the time, en- 
titled, “ Stringi mi^ The air in the hall was grow- 
ing heavy. It was the moment when, at a ball, 
the curls of the ladies commence to lengthen, and 
their motions, which, at the beginning of the danc- 
ing, are always somewhat stiff and self-conscious, 
manifest a certain yielding suppleness. There is 
a kind of electricity, like that before a thunderstorm, 
in the air, and an inward disturbance seizes upon 
the most indifferent spectator. 

Crespigny and Zinka glided past. In the midst 
of the passionate excitement surrounding her, Zinka 
was pale and calm. She was not living in the pre- 
sent — she was dreaming. 

Suddenly Crespigny, who waltzed very badly, col- 
lided with another couple. His feet became en- 
tangled in the train of one of the ladies, and, with 
his partner, he fell headlong to the floor. With 
impulsive inconsiderateness, Sempaly pushed 
through the crowd, and succeeded in raising Zinka 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


193 


in advance of all others who came to her aid. 
Without taking the slightest notice of the critical 
looks turned upon him, he bent over Zinka: her 
old power over him had revived. Confused and 
dizzy, she at first hardly knew who had assisted 
her; with closed eyes she clung to his arm. When 
he whispered a few words of sympathy to her, she 
looked up, blushed, and was evidently startled. 

“ An unpleasant occurrence ! Very unpleasant !” 
whispered some of the ladies. 

In the mean time Sempaly, with gentle force, 
placed Zinka ’s little hand on his arm, and led her 
away from the close atmosphere of che ball-room 
to one of the adjoining apartments. 

13 


CHAPTER IV. 


The chance which she had prayed for had come 
— the chance that brought them together again. 
His old feelings had revived. She read it in his 
eyes. She called all her self-control to aid to con- 
ceal her joy — not from calculating coquetry, but 
from womanly self-respect. His talk was con- 
fused, full of sentiment — she interrupted him with 
the most commonplace questions. 

He had brought her mantle. Wrapped in the 
white drapery, she went from one to another of 
the statues whose creamy white shone out from 
among the palm-trees. At times she would ad- 
dress a word to some acquaintance whom they met. 
The hall became more and more deserted. The 
pause for supper had come ; people were going to 
the buffet. 

Zinka’s cold demeanor, which he had by no 
means expected, excited Sempaly. He suddenly 
felt as if there could be nothing more blissful in 
the world than to fold her in his arms just once, 
and half smother her with kisses. All his thoughts 
yearned for that one rapturous moment. Beyond 
th^t be considered nothing. She mns\ be his— 

J94 ■ 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 1 95 

any price, even though he and she and the whole 
world were lost thereby. 

“Zinka,” he whispered hoarsely, ‘‘Zinka, Lent 
is over — Easter has come!” 

‘‘What do you mean?” she asked, still control- 
ling herself, almost harshly. 

“ I mean” — his burning eyes were fixed upon 
her face — “ I mean that I have finished my pen- 
ance, and that I want to be happy!” 

They were now standing in the raised cabinet, 
divided from the main hall by two columns. They 
were alone. A wild joy, exaggerated to pain, came 
over Zinka. Happiness crept through her veins 
like a sweet lethargy ; but she remained silent, and 
did not smile, nor even raise her eyes to his. She 
coulS not have smiled, even if she had wished to; 
she was as if paralyzed. 

He, however, thought that she pretended to be 
deaf to his words. 

“Zinka,” he urged, “will you never forgive me 
for having rung the bells of a fool’s-cap for six 
weeks, in order not to hear the music of the 
spheres? Will you not pardon me for the sake of 
the torments which I have undergone these past 
weeks ? I cannot bear it any longer — I surrender 
at discretion — I cannot live without you!” 

Her weakened body was not equal to this excite- 
ment; the fearful tension which her pride, during 
the last quarter of an hour, had enforced upon her 
nerves gave way ; a tremor went through her whole 
frame ; she groped aboqf h^r with her bands, and 


196 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


tottered. He supported her with one arm, and 
with the other pushed open a glass door which 
stood ajar. 

“Come out here; the air will do you good,” he 
murmured indistinctly. They went out into the 
lonely garden. His arm tightened around her; he 
drew her closer to him. Involuntarily he expected 
that she would release herself from him by some 
movement of resisting alarm; but no, she only 
looked up to him blissfully, with eyes streaming 
with tears, and whispered : “ I ought not to for- 
give you so readily;” and, fearlessly and confid- 
ingly as a sick child leans upon its mother’s 
breast, she let her head sink down upon his shoul- 
der and sobbed for joy. A strange feeling came 
over him. From below the sound of church-bells 
was heard. 

At that he softly kissed her forehead with de- 
vout tenderness, and murmured : 

“My beloved, my pearl of great price!” 

She was saved. 


CHAPTER V. 


When the general, coming from the card-room 
and about to leave, threw a last superficial glance 
into the dancing-hall, the german, with its charm- 
ingly devised figures and favors, was nearing its 
end. 

“ What an unfortunate idea to give a ball so late 
in the season, at such a temperature!” was the la- 
ment heard from the ranks of the chaperones. 

Among the latter he noticed the baroness, who, 
her glass at her eyes, was anxiously looking about 
the room with a very perplexed expression in her 
face. Siegburg, who, as the general knew, had en- 
gaged Zinka for the german, was not dancing. 
When the general approached him in order to ask 
the reason of his being at leisure, he remarked, 
quietly, that he “ believed Zinka had not felt well, 
and had gone home.” 

His manner of saying this caused the general to 
suspect that he made the remark merely to screen 
some imprudence on Zinka ’s part. He had last 
seen her in the hall of mirrors with Sempaly ; he 
hastened thither to look for her. He examined all 
the flower-niches in vain. He entered the boudoir 
behind the columns ; that, too, was empty, but the 
197 


THE Hand oT destiny. 


19S 

glass door stood open. He began to feel alarmed. 
He hastened into the garden. 

Outside, the air was indescribably damp and 
sultry. A hopeless weariness and an uneasy ex- 
citement came over him. The sirocco had cast 
its deathly, paralyzing spell over Rome. 

Northerners who have never been in Rome can 
form no idea of the nature of the sirocco. Most 
of them think it is a hot wind-storm. 

But no ! When the air is close yet damp, with 
subtle, delicious odors breathed, not wafted through 
it, then the sirocco is mixing its poisons. It mixes 
them from the fragrance of the flowers which it calls 
to life only to destroy them ; from the exhalations of 
the Tiber, whose yellow waves, like gold mixed 
with slime, rush along over the corpses and treas- 
ures buried in its depths; from the mouldering 
breath of the graves and the incense-smoke of the 
churches of Rome. 

The sirocco stirs our soul with seductive illu- 
sions and fills our heart with oppressive sadness; 
it inspires our imagination to great deeds, and 
stretches our body upon a couch in voluptuous in- 
dolence. It glides even into the convent- cells. 
It strokes the pale cheeks of young nuns who are 
striving after devoutness, and recalls to them some 
bygone, lovely dream. 

And all that is sad, all that is infamous, and much 
of that which is beautiful in the past of Rome has 
been engendered by the sirocco. It is the creator of 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


199 


glorious fancies and of horrible deeds. It would 
almost seem that after the day when Caesar fell by 
the dagger of Brutus, sirocco and tramontana had 
fought a last fight for the possession of Rome — and 
that sirocco had conquered ! 

A gray mist covered the sky, and veiled the disc 
of the paling moon. 

The plashing of the cascade which fell from 
terrace to terrace, from one fountain into the next, 
had a dreamy sound. Pale morning was already 
casting its disenchanting gleams amid the magic of 
the moonlit night. Light and shade were blended. 
The coloring showed the indistinct, grayish tinge 
of a half -effaced pastel-painting. 

The general cast searching glances into the 
avenues of angularly trimmed laurel-bushes which 
ran along the garden -slope in rows. Above the 
bushes rose the huge trunks of the evergreen oaks, 
overgrown to the branches with ivy and climbing 
roses. Here and there something white shone out 
from the dull- green. He hastened toward it — it 
was a statue or a flowery bush. 

Roses and magnolias bent their heads as if lis- 
tening. Overpowering every other fragrance, the 
odor of the orange-blossoms permeated the sirocco- 
vapor. At times there was heard among the leaves, 
like a slight shudder or a soft sigh, the sound of a 
falling blossom. 

The old gentleman’s breath failed him. He 
called: “Zinka, Sempaly!” No one answered. 


200 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Suddenly he heard the sound of low voices in the 
famous Avenue of Sarcophagi. He hastened to- 
ward it. The morning light peeped through an 
opening in the thick leaves. There, on a bench, 
sat Zinka and Sempaly, hand in hand, engaged in 
tender talk, and oblivious of the world about them. 
It was Zinka who saw the general first. She re- 
mained perfectly unembarrassed. 

“O uncle!” she cried, “mamma is looking for 
me, I suppose! Now, don’t scold me, please ” 

Good heavens! the happy, innocent eyes which 
she raised to him ! Over such purity the sirocco 
had no power. With her the general could not 
possibly be angry — but with him ! 

“Sempaly,” he cried in indignation, “what were 
you thinking of?” 

“ I have at last made up my mind to be happy,” 
he said fervently, raising Zinka ’s hands to his lips. 
“That is all!” 

“ You think I ought not to have forgiven him so 
readily, do you not?” whispered Zinka with bent 
head, intimidated by the general’s stern look. 

“Zinka has been missed, and you know how 
wicked the world is!” cried the general vehe- 
mently, paying no regard to the sentiment of the 
situation. 

Sempaly silenced him by an impatient gesture. 

“To tell the truth,” he murmured reflectively, 
“ I feel inclined to go to the ball-room with Zinka 
on the spot, and tell some of my most intimate 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


201 


friends of our engagement.” But the next mo- 
ment he thought differently. 

“No, I cannot,” he cried uneasily; “unfortu- 
nately I cannot do it. In fact, I must request you, 
Zinka, to keep our engagement secret for the pre- 
sent even from your family.” 

“ Make haste, Zinka,” said the general dryly, “ my 
cab is waiting in the square. If I am not mis- 
taken, there is a gate close at hand by which you 
can leave the garden. Yes, here it is. I shall tell 
your mother, before several witnesses, that you 
did not feel well, and went home before the gerina?i 
with Lady Julia.” 

When Zinka had departed for the Palazetto in 
charge of the general’s confidential coachman, the 
eyes of the two men met. 

“Unpardonable!” exclaimed the general indig- 
nantly. 

At this Sempaly flared up. “You may think as 
badly of me as you like,” he cried, “but never cast 
even the shadow of an impure suspicion on Zinka. 
You know that when a cross is held in the face of 
the devil, his power is broken.” 

Without deigning to reply to him, the general 
passed by Sempaly, and hastened through the gar- 
den to the ball-room. He found time to lock the 
door from the boudoir to the garden. 

In the ball-room the baroness came to meet him 
with the question: “ Where is Zinka? Have you 
not seen her?” to which he answered: “Zinka did 


202 


tlifi ttANt) OP t)£STlNV. 


not feel quite well after her fall — she went home 
with Lady Julia some time ago.” He said this as 
distinctly as possible, and in French, with the in- 
tention of being heard and understood by a num- 
ber of people. 

“You might have let me know,” remarked the 
baroness testily. 

“ We were looking for you, madame,” he replied, 
“but could not find you.” 

For the first time in his life, he told a lie. 

Next morning the general called on Lady Julia 
at a preposterously early hour, in order to initiate 
her into the mysteries of the past night, so that 
she should not by accident contradict his state- 
ments. As he himself had escorted her to her car- 
riage, everything seemed satisfactorily arranged. 
Although she' was quite as averse to telling an un- 
truth as the general, she yet declared herself ready 
to corroborate his fiction. At the same time she 
said, again and again, “Poor little thing!” and 
“ I hope it may all come right!” ' 


CHAPTER VI. 


“Dearest Zinka:— My beloved, darling little 
sweetheart! My brother arrived last night. He 
is on his way to Australia, and, fortunately, will 
remain only a few days. As long as he is here, 
however, I shall be obliged to make a great sacri- 
fice, and hardly be able see you at all, as he must 
have no suspicion of our engagement. 

“Shall I confess to you the plain, matter-of-fact 
reason which induces me to conceal my happiness ? 
During these last unhappy weeks, merely to kill 
time, I have been playing high, and always with 
the worst luck, and have run in debt accordingly. 
My brother will pay my debts, as he always has 
done, as long as things are in a normal state. But 
— yet — I cannot write about it. Do not believe, 
however, that his narrow views will have any in- 
fluence on me as far as you are concerned, even if 
I do apparently submit to him. I consider it un- 
necessary to rouse his anger. But as soon as he has 
sailed, there will no longer be any objection to our 
engagement. We can marry immediately. He 
will yield to the fait accompli. If I can make it 
possible, I will come to the Palazetto this evening 
to ask for a kiss and a loving word. Till then I 
remain, requesting you to observe implicit silence, 
“Yours devotedly, N. S.” 

Zinka received this letter the day after the ball, 
as she was breakfasting in her room, somewhat later 
than usual, and with the appetite of a convalescent. 

203 


264 


THE HAHD of DESTiHV. 


She changed color. Her eyes glowed with anger. 
His coldness, his neglect she had borne — but the 
proof of paltry weakness, of moral cowardice, which 
his letter gave her, so lowered him in her eyes 
that he appeared almost contemptible. 

It seemed to her as if a sudden light were cast 
upon his whole personality — as if she had not loved 
him, but quite a different man. The Sempaly who 
had won her heart was a proud young god, who, 
if it had wSO happened, might permit himself to de- 
scend from his sublime height to break the heart 
of a poor, insignificant young girl who in any 
case ought to have been happy to have met him ; 
but he was no nervous, unprincipled weakling, who 
stooped to dissimulation of various kinds from fear 
of having to face his brother’s anger. She was quite 
beside herself. All her pride, which of late had 
been sleeping, stupefied by grief, awoke again. 
Hastening to her writing-desk, she wrote as follows : 

“ I might have been capable of marrying you 
without your brother’s consent. But I never could 
make up my mind to do so without his knowledge. 
I could defy him, but never deceive him. Do not 
come to the Palazetto unless you have definitely 
made up your mind. It is impossible for me to 
marry you as long as I cannot feel firmly convinced 
that I am more necessary to your happiness than 
the friendly sentiments of your brother. In the 
mean time I release you from all obligations to me, 
and shall efface from my memory, the words which 
your excitement led you to speak last night. 

“Yours truly, Zinka Stertzl.’’ 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


205 


This very categorical epistle Zinka inclosed in 
an envelope, and, having addressed it, she rang 
for her maid, and gave her the order to send the 
letter without delay to the Palazzo Venezia. 

“ Is there an answer?” asked the maid. 

“ No,” said Zinka shortly. 

Hardly had the maid disappeared when Zinka, 
of course, became violently excited, and almost 
repented of having written so angrily. She might 
have told him all that her answer contained without 
expressing it so harshly. Then she read his letter 
once more, contracted her delicate eyebrows, and 
shook her head. Suddenly her eye fell upon a 
second letter, which had been brought her at the 
same time with Sempaly’s, but of which she had 
taken no notice at first. Now she recognized the 
handwriting as that of Truyn. The note con- 
tained but a few words : 

“Dear Zinka: Gabrielle’s condition has grown 
alarmingly worse over-night. The doctor gives 
very little hope. The poor child longs for you 
when she is conscious, and also in her delirious 
fancies. Come if you can. 

“ Your old friend, 

“ Eric Truyn. 

“ P. S. — The disease is not infectious; it is pneu- 
monia.” 

Zinka started up. She forgot everything — her 
happiness, her grief, her anger, everything con- 
nected with Sempaly; she no longer thought of 
anything but the kindness which Truyn had always 


206 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


shown her, the sorrow with which he was threat- 
ened. 

“‘It is no infectious disease,’ ” she murmured to 
herself, “ poor man ! Even now he thinks of others, 
while — I — I” Her cheeks burn; she is think- 

ing of the evening in Holy Week, when the child 
sitting beside her in the carriage had begun to feel 
chilly, and she had not noticed it. “ I had lost my 
head because he had spoken a kind word to me,” 
she says to herself, indignant at her weakness. 

A few minutes later she is hastening breathlessly 
along the Corso, toward the Piazza di Spagna. Her 
maid has difficulty in following her hurried steps. 
She sees nothing that is going on around her, notices 
none of the passers-by, and on the Piazza di Spagna 
nearly runs against a group of people who are just 
coming out of the Hotel de Londres, and feels the 
touch of a soft hand on her arm. Looking up she 
recognizes Nini latinsky. 

“Good-morning; where are you going in such 
haste?” asks the young countess pleasantly. 

Zinka bows shortly, absently : “ I am hurrying to 
the Hotel de 1’ Europe; Gabrielle Truyn seems to 
be very ill, and has asked for me.” 

It is only now that Zinka notices a tall, broad- 
shouldered man, with proud bearing and a dark, 
handsome face, standing beside Nini. He is ob- 
serving her with kindly discretion, and Nini intro- 
duces him to her as Prince Sempaly. Then she 
notices Nicholas Sempaly, too, with Polyxena. 
Passipn glows in his eyes ; nevertheless, he merely 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


207 


lifts his hat with the most distant formality. Zinka 
gives no thought to his behavior ; the meeting al- 
together makes no impression upon her : she only 
feels that she is being detained. “ Pardon me, 
countess,” she says to Nini with a winning smile, 
and cordially pressing her hand, without remember- 
ing in the least the social gulf between them, “ poor 
Count Truyn is expecting me !” And with this she 
hastens away. 

“Who is that charming girl, Nini?” asks the 
prince. “ Of course you forgot to mention her name 
to me.” 

“A Fraulein Stertzl, the sister of one of our sec- 
retaries of legation,” replies Nini. 

“Stertzl?” repeats the prince, rather disen- 
chanted. 

“ Zenai'de Stertzl!” cries Polyxena, mockingly, 
over her shoulder. 

But the facetiousness with which she emphasizes 
the peculiar, romantically plebeian name is lost on 
the prince. He is a man of too high standing to 
make sport of insignificant people, and merely 
says: “Sterzl — I think I know the name. Stertzl? 
I served under a Colonel Stertzl in the X — Uhlans. 
He was a most respectable man.” 

Meanwhile Zinka is hurrying onward to the Hotel 
de r Europe. In the sunny court two rose-bushes 
are in full bloom, one red, the other white; two lit- 
tle boys, with brown curly hair, are playing at duel- 
ling with sticks in a corner ; two English families in 
large landau? are preparing fox m excursion, aud 


208 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


send into the hotel again and again for something 
that has been forgotten. The whole court is filled 
with the fragrance of roses, sunlight, and cheerful- 
ness. One of the English girls laughs aloud at 
something; another admonishes her in a low voice. 
“Hush!” she murmurs, pointing to some windows 
above; “remember the invalid.” 

Zinka’s heart turns cold; she hastens up the 
well-known staircase. In the drawing-room sits 
Gabrielle’s English governess — very straight, very 
sad, and very awkward. “ May I go to Gabrielle?” 
Zinka a.sks. 

“No, please wait a while; the doctor is there.” 

At this moment Truyn comes from the sick-room 

with the famous Dr. E , the German resident 

physician, nods sadly to Zinka, and accompanies 
the doctor downstairs. His features have the white, 
rigid look which is seen in good, unselfish persons 
who are accustomed to fight out their griefs alone 
within themselves. 

When he returns to the drawing-room and ap- 
proaches Zinka, he says, taking her hand in his: 
“ My little girl asks for you every five minutes ; 
but” — looking dubiously at her moist eyes, her pale, 
quivering face — “ will you succeed in hiding your 
anxiety for the child from her?” 

“You can depend upon me,” replies Zinka, 
bravely dashing the tears from her eyes. Two 
seconds later she glides into the sick-room, quiet 
and cheerful as a sunbeam. 


CHAPTER VII. 


It was obvious that some one must have played 
the spy on Zinka and Sempaly during their moon- 
light interview, or heard of it subsequently, in spite 
of the general’s precautions. The proof thereof 
was an abominable article which appeared on the 
Friday after the ball in a Roman journal published 
in French. 

The article was entitled: “A Moonlight Meet- 
ing.” 

It commenced with an exact description of Zinka, 

who was introduced to its readers as Mile. Z a 

S 1, sister of one of the secretaries of the Aus- 

trian legation, recalled the sensation which she had 
created at the Ilsenberghs, in the Lady Jane Grey 
tableau, described her as a talented adventuress, a 
“ professional beauty” of Rome, and mentioned her 
repeated unsuccessful attempts to secure a closed 
coronet — attempts which had finally culminated in 
a moonlight promenade which had secretly taken 
place at a ball given by one of the leaders of Roman 
society, and had surpassed in audacity everything 
which the chronique scaridaleuse of Roman fashion 
had been able to record until now. “ Will merit re- 
ceive its crow7t? Will ‘High Life’ soon have the 
pleasure of announcing a viaria^e dan$ le viondef 
14 209 


2 lO 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


That is the question.” This was the conclusion of 
the article. 

“ High Life” — this was the name of the journal 
embellished by said charming article — was a ta- 
booed paper, which, condemned by the whole of 
society, was yet taken secretly by a great portion 
thereof, and was read by a still greater portion — 
with horror and indignation, indeed, but still read. 

On that fatal Friday, every copy of “ High Life” 
was sold. Before the sun was setting, Zinka’s 
name was in every one’s mouth. 

What did Rome say to the article? Lady Julia 
wept, drank tea, and went to bed ; Mr. Ellis cried 
‘‘Shocking!” assured his wife that he was con- 
vinced of Zinka’s innocence, and also of her finally 
carrying off the victory over this slander — after 
which he phlegmatically turned to other things, 
and practised for two full hours a particularly diffi- 
cult passage on the concertina. 

The Brauers, the compatriots of the Stertzls pre- 
viously mentioned, who had been partially received 
in Roman society, but were not invited to the Bran- 
caleone ball, contributed more than any one else to 
the spreading of the article, each one of them fur- 
nishing it with individual comments. 

Madame Brauer assumed an expression of per- 
fidious compassion, and observed that the affair 
was very risky for Zinka’s reputation, although she 
herself could see no great harm in an innocent 
little moonlight walk with a friend. Her husband, 
Qf -whom thQ wbolQ §t^rtd family had .tak^u very 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


2 I I 


little notice — the baroness from pride, Cecil, how- 
ever, merely because Brauer was really a thoroughly 
shallow, affected, and pretentious fellow — declared 
with the most sarcastic smile that “ he had never 
liked the Stc. Nitotiche manner of the little adven- 
turess, who had boldly pushed herself into circles 
into which she had no right to intrude. He had 
always considered her conduct very improper; 
Duchess Brancaleone must necessarily feel much 
mortified that so scandalous an occurrence had 
taken place at her house ; another time she would 
probably be more careful in the choice of her 
guests. 

Mesdames Ferguson and Gandry found that the ar- 
ticle was very amusingly written — not that they ap- 
proved of indiscretions like this. Under such cir- 
cumstances one would have to be in fear of one’s life ; 
in their case, to be sure, journalism would have to 
invent something, which was hardly necessary as far 
as Zinka was concerned. Moreover, they sent the 
article to all their friends, and assured them that 
“ this occurrence proved how necessary it was to be 
cautious as to receiving a stranger into society. 
They had had their suspicions of Zinka from the 
very first, ''car, aprcs tout, ce nest pas du vrai 
mondey 

These bold and scandalous remarks were made 
by the two ladies at General Klinger’s studio, 
which, as we have seen, was a favorite place of 
meeting for society — a sort of fashionable forum, 
^nd always crowded with visitors whenever th^r^ 


212 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


was a particularly exciting social event to be dis- 
cussed. Princess Vulpini, who was present, was» 
highly indignant. 

“I am an Austrian, ladies,” she said, “and as 
such I have been brought up with ideas, the exclu- 
siveness of which you can neither conceive nor 
grasp. I am strictly conservative in every respect. 
But Zinka is one in a thousand, a charming ex- 
ception to which rules must give way. I should 
have thought it narrow-minded and foolish to deny 
myself, in deference to a social dogma, the plea- 
sure which the intercourse with this lovely girl 
offered me.” 

“Exceptions always fare badly,” muttered the 
general. 

Countess Ilsenbergh, who was quite as particular 
with regard to matters of honor as in questions of 
etiquette, was most unpleasantly impressed by the 
article. She expressed herself very decidedly 
against the freedom of the press, and confessed, 
moreover, that, whether Zinka were guilty or inno- 
cent, matters looked very bad for Sempaly. 

Count Ilsenbergh developed the most powerful 
eloquence, and delivered a stupendous lecture on 
the social question. “Our respected friend the 
princess is perfectly right,” he said; “ Fraulein 
Stertzl is a charming exception — if it were possible 
to deviate from the established rules of society for 
any one, it would be for her. But our friend the 
general is also right; exceptions invariably fare 
badly in this world, and we cannot menace the 


THE HAN£> OE destiny* 


213 


whole of society in its inner core, in order to al- 
leviate the lot of the individual. We cannot es- 
tablish precedents.” 

He then proceeded to emphasize the terrible dis- 
order which would arise from such a mingling- of 
classes, referred his hearers to France, and pro- 
posed, in order to steady European society and to 
pacify ambitious minds, the introduction and strict 
observance of the East-Indian caste system. 

When, upon this, his wife objected that “ Euro- 
pean society had not yet reached the summit of 
exclusive perfection planned by him, and that, in 
consequence, instead of looking so far ahead, they 
ought now to consider the question of the unpleas- 
ant occurrence which had originated in its present 
deficiencies,” he observed that “the matter was 
quite plain: either ‘High Life’ had lied — then Sem- 
paly had nothing to do but deny the article, prove an 
alibi, and horsewhip the editor; or, if the occurrence 
reported by ‘ High Life’ was a fact, nothing remained 
to him under the circumstances, and in view of the 
irreproachable character of the young lady, but 
to ” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“To make Fraulein Stertzl Countess Sempaly!” 
cried Madame de Gandry ; “ but I must say I find it 
rather too much that a young adventuress is to be 
rewarded for her ‘ dh^ergondage ’ with a coronet of 
nine points! Ah, I beg your pardon, general — I 
had quite forgotten that you are a friend of the 
Stertzls !” 

“And I,” cried the general, who had started up 


2 14 "the hand oe destiny. 

deathly pale with anger, in a trembling voice, 
“ came within a hair’s-breadth of forgetting that I 
had a lady to deal with!” 

Princess Vulpini now spoke again: “You said 
yourself, countess,” she remarked, “that you had 
from the beginning avoided a more intimate inter- 
course with Zinka. Well, I have seen her almost 
every day since she has been in Rome. I have 
observed her manner toward gentlemen; I have 
listened to her talk with other girls, and I can as- 
sure you that the word ^ ddvergondage ’ is just about 
as applicable to her demeanor as it would be to that 
of my youngest daughter, who is only three years 
old ! And if she really went into the garden with 
my cousin that night of the ball, her doing so is 
only a proof of imprudent enthusiasm — a proof of 
so high a degree of innocence, that it ought of itself 
to guard her against every danger. I passed last 
night with Zinka at the bedside of my little niece, 
and it is utterly impossible that any creature whose 
soul is darkened by an odious memory should 
have so pure an eye, a smile so sweet and ingenuous 
as hers. I would put my hand in the fire for 
Zinka.” 

The princess looked so proud, so grave, so digni- 
fied as she said these words ; she measured Madame 
de Gandry with so contemptuous a glance, that the 
latter, involuntarily intimidated, muttered some- 
thing incomprehensible, and withdrew with her 
friend Mrs. Ferguson. The four Austrians re- 
mained alone. 


THfi HAND OF DESTINY. 


215 


‘^What I understand least of all in the whole 
matter,” said the princess, “is Sempaly’s conduct. 
Immediately after this abominable paper fell into 
my hands, I sent for him to his lodgings in the 
Palazzo Venezia. My servant was told that he had 
just gone to drive with the latinskys. I drove to 
the Hotel de 1’ Europe to speak to my brother. 
But he was sleeping, and I had not the courage to 
waken him. It would have been of no avail, for 
he could have done nothing, and I did not wish to 
spoil his joy at the improvement in his child’s con- 
dition. And so I came here to pour out my heart 
to you, general!” 

“ Sempaly has probably not read the article 
yet,” was Ilsenbergh’s supposition. The princess 
shrugged her shoulders. Countess Ilsenbergh re- 
marked, for the last time that “ the matter was 
very unpleasant, and she had seen it coming,” 
after which she had great trouble in preventing her 
husband from delivering a second lecture, and then 
rose to go. 

At that moment Prince Vulpini entered the 
studio with a radiant face. “ Ah, here you are ! 
I recognized your carriages in passing,” he cried. 
“ Do you want to hear the latest news?” 

“Sempaly and Zinka are engaged!” exclaimed 
the princess. 

“No,” replied the prince, who was known for 
his ultra-papal opinions ; “ the wind blew down the 
Italian flag from the Quirinal last night ! Long live 
the Tramontana!” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A FEW minutes later, the general was alone. For 
a moment he hesitated, then he took his hat and has- 
tened with quick, energetic steps to the Palazetto, 
in order to obtain a clear view of the situation. He 
was at the same time one of the last who had 
heard of the scandalous article, and one of those 
who felt most deeply hurt by it. “ Possibly Sem- 
paly has come to an understanding with Zinka,” he 
said to himself, and this thought accelerated his 
steps. 

It was the baroness’ reception -day. The foolish 
woman, elaborately dressed, and in a studied atti- 
tude, sat behind a table with refreshments, one 
hand covered with a pearl-colored glove, the other 
toying affectedly with its mate. 

“ Vozla qid est gentiir she cried, as the general 
entered the room. All her visitors were invariably 
received with this stereotyped formula of welcome, 
which fluttered from her thin lips without the slight- 
est variation, cool and colorless as a snow-flake. 

As soon as he had greeted the baroness, the 
general looked about him for Zinka, without being 
able to find her at first. It was only when a merry 
voice called out to him, “ Here I am, uncle! Come 
and give me a kiss,” that he discovered her. Seated 
216 


tHE UAND OE bESTiKY. 


217 


in a dark corner of the room, reclining in a large 
easy-chair, she looked tired and sleepy, but very 
pretty and happy. 

“O uncle, I am tired, tired; you can’t fancy 
how tired !” she cried, leaning her cheek caressingly 
against his hand, “ and that cruel mother of mine 
insists on my staying in the drawing-room, never- 
theless, because it is her day, and so I have been 
dozing the whole time here in my easy-chair, be- 
cause, thank Heaven, nobody has come yet. I 
watched with Gabrielle last night and the night 
before, without closing my eyes; I was so glad 
when my little darling would not take her medicine 
from any one but me, and when, last night, she 
finally went to sleep leaning against my shoulder, 
quieted by the stories I had been telling her. But 
for fear of disturbing her, I had to sit still for six 
hours without stirring, and I felt as if I had been 
crucified! And to-day I am all stiff and lame.” 
With this she stretched her slender neck to the right 
and the left, and made a charming motion with 
her shoulder to express her weariness. 

“You ought to go to bed,” the general admon- 
ished her in a fatherly way. 

“ No, indeed I I have been asleep this morning. 
And my weariness matters very little. The chief 
thing is, my little invalid is out of danger. What 
if anything had happened to her!” 

Zinka shuddered. “ I cannot bear even to think 
of it! Count Truyn insists upon it that I have 
contributed to Gabrielle’s convalescence, and when 


2i8 


THE HANt) OF OESTINV. 


I left, lie kissed my hands in gratitude as if I had 
been the Holy Bambino itself. I laughed at him, 
and cried at the same time ; and now my heart is so 
light — as light as a child’s balloon, that has to be 
held back by a string to keep it from flying straight 
up to the sky. But, uncle, what makes you look 
so glum? Why don’t. you rejoice with me?” 

The baroness looked at the clock, and expressed 
her surprise that no one had called yet. 

“You are evidently nobody, uncle! no, nobody 
but my dear, crotchety old friend,” said Zinka, with 
her soft laugh that had a touch of feeling in it. 
There was a particularly insinuating, dreamy loveli- 
ness in her manner to-day. Tears rose to the old 
gentleman’s eyes; his heart bled for her. 

At once a rapid, heavy step was heard approach- 
ing the door ; the step of a man who is dragging a 
great misfortune with him; the door was burst 
open, and, yellow, panting, foam on his lips, a 
newspaper in his hand, Stertzl rushed into the 
room. 

“What ails you — what has happened?” cried 
Zinka in great alarm. 

He bent over her with a terrible look. 

“ Were you really in the garden with Sempaly 
during the german at the ball?” he asked hoarsely. 

“I was,” she answered, trembling — 

He started, staggered, then he drew himself up 
to his full height, and threw the paper at her feet 
with a gesture of contempt for her, his butterfly, 
his sunbeam! 


THE HAND OE DESTiNV. 2ig 

^‘Read that,” he cried shortly, in a tone of com- 
mand. 

The old gentleman tried to snatch the paper 
from her, but Stertzl held him back forcibly. “ Your 
delicacy is out of place here,” he said in a hard 
voice. “ 5//^ can read anything.” 

Zinka read. Suddenly she sprang up and gave 
a short, sharp cry ; the paper fell from her hands. 

Even now she did not comprehend the Alpha and 
Omega of the whole matter ; she did not know of 
what she was accused ; she could only understand 
that the article referred to something abominable, 
repulsive, and disgraceful. 

“Cecil!” she cried indignantly, and fixed her 

large eyes on his, “ Cecil ” And then she covered 

her face, that at first had turned deathly pale, but 
was now crimson, with both hands. 

The senselessness of his suspicion at once grew 
clear to him ; he repented bitterly of his anger, his 
coarseness. “ Zini, forgive me ; I was mad — quite 
mad!” he cried, and tried to take her in his arms. 

But she repulsed him. 

“Let me be, let me be!” she moaned; “I cannot 
forgive you. O Cecil ! if all the papers in the world 
had said that you had cheated at play, do you think 
I should have believed them?” 

He bowed his head almost humbly. “That is 
quite another thing, Zini,” he murmured; “I do 
not say that to defend myself, but it is very differ- 
ent. You cannot understand it, because you are 
a child, an angel, my poor, poor, butterfly.” He 


^20 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


drew her toward him with gentle force, and pressed 
compassionate kisses upon her golden hair, but she 
still resisted and tried to free herself from him. 

“What is it all about?” asked the baroness mean- 
while, for the twentieth time. As she still received 
no answer, she at last stooped and took up the 
newspaper, which lay forgotten on the floor. Her 
eyes fell upon the marked article, she read a part 
of it, and then broke out into a torrent of complaints 
against her daughter, enumerated all the misde- 
meanors of which Zinka had been guilty during 
her whole life, and particularly of late, and finally 
concluded with the words: “You will spoil Cecil’s 
whole career for him yet.” 

“Be quiet, mother!” commanded Stertzl impa- 
tiently. “ Who is thinking of my career now ? It 
is our honor that we have to think of, and /ler hap- 
piness.” Then, bending anxiously over his sister, 
who was trembling with grief and terror, he urged : 
“Speak, Zini; tell me exactly everything that hap- 
pened.” 

She had released herself from him; with her 
arms pressed close to her breast she now stood be- 
fore him ; her attitude had something rigid in it, 
and her voice sounded flat and monotonous, while, 
with the most innocent conscientiousness, trembling 
and blushing, she gave her poor little report. 

When she had finished, Stertzl drew a deep 
breath. “ And you have heard nothing from Sem- 
paly since?” he asked. 

He wrote to me the next morning.” 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


221 


Zinka, don’t be offended ; show me his letter.” 

She left the room, and soon returned with the 
letter, which she gave to Stertzl. He read it 
through very slowly, and evidently with the deep- 
est attention, frowned, and asked, while t3lowly 
folding the letter: “ Did you answer him?” 

“Yes,” she replied shortly. 

“And what?” 

“Very simply — that I was willing to marry him 
without his brother’s consent, but not behind his 
brother’s back.” 

In the midst of all his anguish a light of tender, 
brotherly pride came into Stertzl’ s eyes. 

“Bravo, Zini!” he murmured; “ and this answer 
he has passed over in silence?” 

Zinka had to think a moment. “ Yes,” she said; 
“ no, I am mistaken ; he sent me a note to the Hotel 
de r Europe.” 

“And what did he write in that?” 

“ I have not yet read it ; it came just when 
Gabrielle was at the worst, and then I forgot it — 
but” — putting her hand in the pocket of her blue 
serge dress, “here it is.” 

Stertzl shook his head, cast a peculiar glance at 
his sister, and opened the note. It ran as follows: 

“ My happiness, my treasure, my darling, angry, 
proud little sweetheart! Immediately on receiving 
your wild letter, I rushed to see you. The concierge 
told me that you were not at home, but at the sick- 
bed of your friend Gabrielle. I, of course, cannot 
venture to disturb you while you are with that poor 


222 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


child, although just to-day I would willingly give 
several years of my life for a glance and a kiss 
from you. Rather than lose you, I will give up 
everything at once. Command, and I will obey. 
But no, I must have prudence for us both, after all ; 
I must wait until my affairs are settled. I cannot 
do otherwise ; forgive me. I kiss your hand and 
the hem of your dress. I am not worthy of you, 
but I love you boundlessly. 

“ Sempaly.” 


When Stertzl had finished reading this exceed- 
ingly characteristic epistle, he walked up and down 
the room a few times with heavy steps, and finally 
stopped before his sister, took her hand, kissed it 
and said : “ Forgive me, Zini ; I am proud of you ; 
you have behaved like an angel, but he — he is a 
miserable scoundrel!” 

She could not bear that. “ I do not wish to de- 
fend him,” she cried in a loud voice; “but one 
thing is certain : he loves me, and understands me. 
He would never have doubted me — and ” 

But she sought in vain for anything else that she 
might say in his favor — she could find nothing. 
Then, with a severe effort, she gathered her pride 
together, and, with raised head, went toward the 
door. When it had closed behind her, she could 
be heard sobbing bitterly. 

The baroness prepared to follow her. Stertzl 
intercepted her. 

“Where are you going?” he inquired sternly. 

“ To speak to Zinka, \ must explain to her 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 22 3 

harm she has done. Unpardonable! I had mo: e 
tact than she when I was thirteen.” 

Stertzl smiled very bitterly. “ That is quite possi- 
ble, mother,” he said; “nevertheless, I beg of you, 
decidedly, to leave Zinka alone for the present; 
she is suffering deeply enough as it is.” 

“ Are we to let her indiscretion pass without even 
reproving her for it!” protested the baroness. 

“Yes, mother,” he replied firmly, “it is not for 
us to reproach her ; it is for us to protect and com- 
fort her.” 

The servant announced dinner. Stertzl urged 
the general to dine with them, having, as he said, 
various matters to talk over with him yet. He 
evidently wished to avoid being alone with his 
mother. Before seating himself at the table, he 
went to Zinka’s room to see if she would not at 
least take a cup of broth, but he soon returned, 
much disturbed. “She would not even speak to 
me,” he said; “she is quite beside herself.” 

At table he sat in silence, ate nothing, drank but 
little, crumbled his bread, and twisted his napkin 
into all manner of shapes. 

Every time that the house-door opened, he 
turned his head, listening. The meal was finished 
quickly and perfunctorily. As the party were tak- 
ing coffee in the drawing-room, the servant brought 
Stertzl a letter. He took it hastily, examined the 
address minutely, without recognizing the hand- 
writing, and finally opened it. It contained 
nothing but half a sheQt of paper, upon whigh a 


224 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


frivolous caricature had been sketched with a few 
sharp strokes — Stertzl as an auctioneer, a hammer 
in one hand, a small doll in the other; in front of 
him the closed coronets of Rdme. 

Stertzl recognized himself at the first glance, and 
even though the clumsiness of his figure was 
ridiculously exaggerated and his whole person 
was represented in the most grotesque manner, he 
only shrugged his shoulders and remarked in- 
differently : People really seem to think that 

such a thing as this could hurt me now. Look for 
yourself, general. I suppose Sempaly is the cre- 
ator of this masterpiece!” 

Of course the general would have preferred to 
destroy the sketch before Stertzl could comprehend 
its meaning ; but ere he could carry out his inten- 
tion, the latter looked over his shoulder and sud- 
denly snatched the paper from him. “There is 
something written here,” he said, trying to deci- 
pher the words crowded into a corner in Sempaly’ s 
careless, illegible handwriting: “ ‘Mile. Stertzl 
going — going — gone!’ Ah! now I understand!” 

The blood rushed to his head ; he breathed loudly 
and with difficulty. 

“ It was contemptible to send you this!” cried the 
general. “ Sempaly drew the silly thing before he 
knew Zinka; I was present when he did it!” 

“What difference does that make?” replied 
Stertzl. “The thing remains the same after all. 
So this is the view which was taken of the situation. 
People were not so wrong, after all ; I did look for 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


225 


a brilliant match for Zinka. Well, I meant well ; 
but — I have made us all ridiculous and I have 
ruined my sister!” 

His restlessness became unbearable. He paced 
to and fro incessantly, stopped suddenly, went to 
the open window, put his head out to listen, and 
again paced to and fro. 

“Sempaly is incomprehensible to me,” he mur- 
mured — “ utterly incomprehensible. I have had a 
very low opinion of his character for some time, 
but I should not have thought him capable of such 
baseness and such cruelty. What do you suppose 
is the cause of his keeping out of sight to-day?” 

“ He may not have seen the paper at all,” conject- 
ured the general; “he has gone on an excursion 
with his brother and his cousins.” 

“ Well, even if we suppose that he has not read the 
article,” said Stertzl; “it still seems very singular 
that, as matters stand between him and Zinka, he 
should let two days pass without making an attempt 
to see her.” 

The general was silent. 

“ Hm 1 You know him better than I,” Stertzl re- 
sumed after a while, “ and as Zinka said, you were 
present at a part of this moonlight betrothal scene. 
Do you think he has the intention of — marrying 
Zinka?” 

“ I know that he is madly in love with her ; and 
even the Ilsenberghs, who talked over the matter 
in my presence with Princess Vulpini, cannot see 
how he can avoid offering her his hand, whether 

15 


226 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


his heart prompts him to do so or not,” replied the 
old gentleman evasively. 

“ Vedrenior murmured Stertzl. He looked at 
his watch. “ Half-past nine !” he exclaimed. “ The 
matter grows more and more incomprehensible to 
me. I think I will go to the Palazzo Venezia once 
more; perhaps his servant knows where he is, or 
when he will be back. Wait for me here, I beg of 
you, general;” and, in a very low voice, he added: 
“ Keep my mother away from Zinka ; the excitement 
would be too much for the poor child.” 

He hurried away. Half an hour later he returned. 

“Well?” asked the general. 

“He went to Frascati with the prince, the 
latinskys, and Siegburg at one o’clock,” replied 
Stertzl gloomily. “ When I asked the servant if 
he was coming back to-night, he answered: ‘Cer- 
tainly, for the count is going away with his high- 
ness to-morrow at eleven o’clock.’ It is quite 
plain he has delayed declaring his engagement 
for fear of a scene with his brother ; he is going 
to leave town for fear of a scene with me. ‘ High 
Life’ lay on the table unfolded!” 

They heard the rustling of a light dress. They 
turned ; behind them stood Zinka, with disordered 
hair and frightened, listening eyes that were swollen 
with weeping. 

“Zinka! cried Stertzl, hastening to her in dis- 
may. Her eyes grew vacant, she swayed, groped 
about her with her hands, and fell fainting into 
his arms. He pressed her golden head C9,rQSsingly 
to his shoulder and carried her away. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Sempaly liad an extraordinarily irritable nervous 
sytem and a very senvSitive ear, and in consequence 
thereof an extreme aversion to scenes connected 
with excitement and loud words. Besides, he had 
the habit, often peculiar to spoilt children of Fate, 
of putting off unayoidable disagreeable matters 
indefinitely, in the hope that something unexpected 
would occur to smooth the way. 

His affection for Zinka was thoroughly genuine — 
passionate and tender at the same time. Far from 
weakening, it had rather increased in strength 
during the last few days. While the moonlight 
hour spent in dreamy and innocent talk with him 
had momentarily calmed Zinka’s longing, it had 
on the contrary heightened that which he felt ; and 
while his cowardly, deceitful conduct had lowered 
him in Zinka’s ingenuous eyes, her simple, proud 
demeanor had heightened the charm which she ex- 
erted over him. 

He suffered deeply, but this did not prevent him 
from calmly allowing his good-natured elder brother 
to pay his enormous debts, nor from continuing 
apparently to pay his court to his cousins, in order 
to propitiate that same kind, honest brother. 

It may, however, be said in his favor that he 
227 


228 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


did not do the latter so much intentionally as in- 
stinctively, because, being subject to an unconquer- 
able desire to make himself agreeable, he could not 
resist doing all in his power to create a pleasant 
impression among those in whose company he hap- 
pened to be, even though he could not reconcile it 
to his conscience to do so. 

If he could only once have spoken to Zinka dur- 
ing these three days, affairs might have taken a - 
very different turn. He would probably have 
easily succeeded in regaining, through the almost 
irresistible charm of his personality, the ground 
which he had lost with her; possibly she, by her 
proud integrity, would have induced him to act in , 
a straightforward manner. But he could not disturb 
Zinka while she was at the bedside of her little sick ' 
friend, and he felt little inclined to seek an op- v 
portunity for a dry explanation with Stertzl. So 
he let one hour after another pass, until Friday ^ 
forenoon, when, at his rooms in the Palazzo ^ 
Venezia, the unlucky paper came to his hands, ad- .. 
dressed to him in a disguised handwriting. He 
became vehemently excited; he was on the point 
of rushing off to the Palazetto,when he remembered 
that his brother was coming for him at one o’clock ■ 
to go on an excursion to Frascati. He had dipped | 
his pen in^ the inkstand to write a note cancelling I 
his engagement, when there was a knock at the ] 
door, and, though it was half an hour earlier than i 
the time agreed upon, his brother and his two cou- 
sins entered the room. 




TOfi tiANi) Of Oe^tinV. 


520 


“What a surprise — what an honor!” exclaimed 
Sempaly, somewhat taken aback. 

“ I should think so,” said Polyxena with a laugh. 
“ there is a strong smell of Turkish tobacco in your 
rooms, but their general effect is very pretty.” 

In the mean time, Nini, with her timid, fawn-like 
eyes, was looking about her quietly and attentively. 
It is a well-known fact that a bachelor’s quarters 
is one of the interesting mysteries with which the 
inquisitiveness of young ladies is wont to busy 
itself. 

“The girls insisted on seeing your den,” ex- 
claimed the prince gayly, “ and so I had to bring 
them up here, 7iole?is volens, while Siegburg is en- 
tertaining mamma below.” 

“You proposed it yourself, Oscar,” cried Nini. 

While Sempaly, with a low bow, said gallantly, 
“ From this moment these rooms are consecrated!” 
— the number of “ High Life” was lying on his 
writing-table, and an iron hand seemed to be hold- 
ing his heart in its grasp within his breast. If his 
brother had only come up alone — but with the two 
girls ! The situation was truly unfortunate. 

Xena, with roguish audacity, began to examine 
his bric-a-brac, opened his books ; ventured, laugh- 
ing, to approach his writing-table, and stretched 
out her slender hand for the “ High Life.” 

“ Halt!” cried Sempaly; “that is nothing for you, 
Xena.” 

'' No7i toccare,''' said the prince, laughing good- 
naturedly ; “ it is not advisable for so youthful a lady 


^30 THE HAND OF DESTINV* 

as you to investigate the objects in a bachelor’s den 
too closely ; before you know it, you may have hold 
of a scorpion. But we must not keep mamma 
waiting any longer. Get ready, Nicki. ” 

Sempaly at first sought for some excuse ; then he 
bethought himself that it was really not worth 
while to embitter Oscar’s last hours; that the mat- 
ter might, after all, be adjusted in some other way. 
He begged permission to write a hasty note, and in 
fact dashed off a short epistle to Stertzl, in which 
he made a formal offer for Zinka’s hand. This 
letter he gave to the concierge as he left the house, 
ordering him to take it up to the secretary’s office. 

At first he was quite contented with himself, but 
the farther the afternoon advanced the more un- 
easy he became, chiefly on account of the frequent 
affectionate glances which the prince cast alternately 
on him and Nini. He felt more and more as if he 
were being pushed into a blind alley. In the Villa 
Aldobrandini he took a last precaution. By the 
great fountain he suddenly found himself alone 
with Nini, probably owing to the readiness of the 
rest of the party to give him an opportunity for a 
tete-a-tete with the young lady. This favorable 
moment he took advantage of to relieve his heart. 
He called her his sister, confessed to her his secret 
engagement, and begged her to be Zinka’s friend. 
Nini, who felt as if a dagger had been thrust into 
her bosom, was very brave, and of course took 
pains, as any other noble woman would have done, 
if only for fear of betraying the state of her heart, 


Tilt: MANt) OF' OESTiNY. 


to express a satisfaction in his engagement which 
it was not possible for her to feel. 

He kissed her hand with emotion, and remained 
constantly by her side. 

The prince, who noticed these secret conferences 
between the young couple, smiled knowingly, and 
joyfully communicated his observations to Countess 
latinsky. 

Endowed with a large, warm heart, but entirely 
wanting in delicacy of perception, he was unable 
to comprehend of what a young man could be talk- 
ing to a girl so mysteriously and at the same time 
so tenderly, if not of his love for her. 

The day passed. With a degree of imprudence 
of which only foreigners are guilty in Rome, the 
party started for home very late, and reached the 
Hotel de Londres only shortly before ten o’clock. 
Here it was that Nem^esis overtook Sempaly. 

At the end of the supper, which the party partook 
of in the latinskys’ apartments, and during which 
the mysterious confidences between Sempaly and 
his cousin were continued, the prince, with a smile 
which betrayed the most intense pride in his shrewd 
power of divination, raised his glass and cried : “ Let 
us drink to the health of our betrothed couple!” 

Nini turned crimson, Sempaly very pale. He 
had reached the end of the blind alley. Crowded 
to the wall, nothing was left to him but to turn 
and face the enemy whom he could not escape. Ho 
was seized by an irresistible impulse to tear the 
odious mask from his face. 


THE HAND OF HESTINV. 


53^ 

“What betrothed couple do you allude to?” he 
asked. 

“Well, don’t be so mysterious, Nicki,” cried the 

prince cordially; “to you and ” A glance at 

Countess Nini silenced him. 

“To me and Fraulein Zinka Stertzl!” said Sem- 
paly emphatically, and blurting the words out 
angrily. 

The blood rushed to his brother’s head; for a 
moment he was dumb with indignation and dismay ; 
Countess latinsky’s face wore a perplexed smile, 
Polyxena’s lip curled scornfully, and Nini held out 
her hand to her good-for-nothing cousin, and as- 
sured him : “ Zinka will always find a friend in me.” 

But now the prince’s indignation burst forth ; he 
fairly raved — swore that he would never give his 
consent to such a preposterous marriage ; could not 
comprehend how his brother, at his age, could have 
got such boyish nonsense into his head. The 
ladies withdrew. Sempaly, whose nature, formerly 
so vacillating, had suddenly congealed to a sort of 
icy defiance, sent a waiter for a copy of the fatal 
number of “ High Life.” But when the prince had 
read the scandalous article, his first word was : “ A 
pretty state of things there would be in the world, 
if every man who allows himself to be deluded into 
an act of imprudence by some pretty adventuress 
had to pay for it by marrying her!” 

At the insulting epithet which his brother ap- 
plied to Zinka, Sempaly started up. He did not 
spare himself in the least; with the most unre- 


THE hand of EESTINV'. ijj 

served candor, with complete objectivity, and keen 
eloquence, he pleaded Zinka’s cause against him- 
self. Selfish, nervous, morally and physically 
pampered though he was, there was yet nothing low 
in him. He now could find no limit to his self- 
accusation : it seemed to him as if he could efface, 
by the invectives which he heaped upon himself 
more and more liberally, the mean acts of which he 
had been guilty for the last few days. He told 
everything — that he had loved Zinka from the first 
moment ; that he had been on the point of offering 
her his hand, and had been prevented only by 
an accident which had hurled him just in time 
from the heaven of his enthusiasm. He told how 
he had neglected her, and had tried, by his con- 
stant intercourse with his fair cousins, to erect a 
barrier between Zinka and the longing of his heart ; 
how he had met her unexpectedly at the Branca- 
leone ball ; and how, when he suddenly held her in 
his arms after raising her from her fall, passion 
had come over him like an evil power — ay, he told 
everything, up to the moment when she laid her 
head upon his shoulder. “ To such innocence one 
must bow the knee,” he concluded, “and that all I 
have said in her favor is not exaggerated, can be 
proved to you by all Rome. Ask whom you will, 
Marie Vulpini, Truyn, even the Ilsenberghs them- 
selves — Siegburg here.” 

The prince turned to the latter: “I cannot un- 
derstand this matter in the least. Is that which he 
says of the girl true, or is he raving?” 


234 


TH£ tlAND OF DESTINY. 


Siegburg’s answer was simple, warm, and clear. 
As is well known, it is difficult for a young man to 
praise a beautiful girl in an unsuspicious manner. 
The testimony which Siegburg gave for Zinka was 
a little masterpiece of enthusiasm restrained by tact 
and subdued by respect. 

The prince’s face grew darker and darker. “ I 
suppose the young lady is the same one whom we 
met on the- Piazza di Spagna?” he asked. 

“Yes,” replied Sempaly. 

“ She is the sister of the secretary of legation, 
to whom the ambassador introduced me yesterday, 
and the niece of my old colonel?” 

“Yes.” 

“ According to what you all have told me, she is 
not only a young person of irreproachable character, 
but a general favorite.” 

“ She is.” 

The prince was silent for a moment. He was 
rooted with all the fibres of his being in the cus- 
toms of the caste in which he had been born, for 
which he had been educated. A union between a 
Fraulein Stertzl and a Sempaly was for him a mon- 
strosity. He possessed in the highest degree a 
reverence for traditions, that which Count d’Alton- 
Sh^e calls “/? respect des mines but the ruins had 
to be grand and beautiful, else they made no impres- 
sion upon him. 

With his head in his hand, he still sat at the 
supper-table, which had not been cleared, and on 
which the light sparkled in the half-emptied cham- 


The hand of destinV, 


^35 


pagne-glasses, and the bouquets which had been 
prepared for the ladies still lay beside their plates. 
Suddenly he raised his head, and pointing to “ High 
Life,” he asked: 

“ Had you read this article when we called on 
you in the Palazzo Venezia?” 

“I had.” 

The prince drew himself up to his full height. 
“ And you did not remain in Rome to defend the 
girl ?” he asked. His great black eyes fastened them- 
selves upon the blue eyes of his brother. “ You went 
with us to Frascati, you exposed the reputation of 
this young lady for a whole day to the greed for 
scandal of all the evil tongues of Rome, in the fear of 
a disagreeable explanation with me, in dread of a few 
angry words on my part! You have behaved in 
this affair from beginning to end, in the most un- 
principled manner both toward this young girl 
and toward our poor darling in there,” pointing to 
the door behind which the countess and her two 
daughters had disappeared. “ I shall, of course, not 
let you starve . Y our allowance will be paid to y ou as 
heretofore, but otherwise all is over between us. 
We cannot understand each other, you and 1. You 
may go!” 


CHAPTER X. 


Alas! the “something unexpected,” which Sem- 
paly had waited for, had not presented itself ! 

The dreaded scene between the brothers, though 
delayed for some hours, had come to pass after all ; 
and Sempaly, by his dilatory, equivocal demeanor, 
had gained nothing further than that, instead of 
merely rousing his brother’s anger, he had also 
drawn upon himself his contempt, and that his pro- 
jected marriage with Zinka, when he finally found 
himself obliged to declare his engagement with her 
to his brother, had sunk from a romantic, sensation- 
creating love-match — a piece of erotic knight- 
errantry, as it were — to that tamest of unions, a 
“ inariage de (conscience '' 

With the recollection of the disagreeable scene 
as well as the torments of a sleepless night resulting 
from it still in every fibre of his body, weary of turn- 
ing his head to the right and left on his pillow with- 
out being able to close his eyes, Sempaly rose earlier 
than usual the next morning. 

At war with himself, touched and surprised at 
the proud generosity of his brother, mortified by 
the thought of the humiliations which he had drawn 
upon Zinka by his dilatory silence, he was in that 
236 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


237 


state of excessive irritation in which we try to throw 
a portion of our own responsibility upon every one 
we meet, and would like to make every one suffer 
for the torments which we ourselves feel. 

Waiting for his breakfast, he was pacing to and 
fro in his sitting-room, which was half salo7i and 
half smoking-room, when the general entered. 

For the first time in his life he greeted the old 
gentleman ungraciously. “Good-morning,” he 
cried ; “ to what do I owe the pleasure of so early a 
call from you?” 

“Well,” replied the choleric old soldier, control- 
ling himself with difficulty, “you will hardly be 
surprised to hear that, as Fraulein Stertzl’s god- 
father and friend of long standing, I have come to 
ask the reason of your singular conduct toward 
her.” 

“ I should think that was StertzFs affair rather 
than yours,” replied Sempaly brusquely. 

“ It is just because I wish to prevent too violent a 
collision between you and Stertzl that I have come 
here so early to-day,” replied the general, who was 
evidently more of a cavalry officer than of a diplo- 
mat. “Stertzl is furious, and as I am convinced 
that, at bottom, your intentions with regard to the 

young lady are honorable, I thought ” At 

that moment his eyes fell upon a small valise, such 
as young gentlemen of elegant tastes are wont to 
carry with them on even their shortest excursions, 
which lay, fully furnished, on a lounge. “Are you 
going away?” asked the general in surprise. 


238 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“ I had the intention of accompanying my brother 
to Ostia to-day, and returning to-morrow morning; 
but I shall not do so now ; I have quarrelled with my 
brother — my good, noble brother ; and we can never 
be friends again. Are you satisfied ?” He stamped 
his foot. 

“ Am I to blame for your former indiscretions, 
which necessitated this falling out?” retorted the 
general angrily. 

Just then there was a sharp knock at the door, 
and in answer to Sempaly’s short '' Avantir Stertzl 
entered the room. Without taking the hand 
which Sempaly carelessly extended to him in 
greeting, he pulled a newspaper from his pocket, 
opened it, held it out to Sempaly, and asked, in a 
harsh tone: “ Have you read that article?” 

“I have,” muttered Sempaly testily, between his 
teeth. 

“Before you went to Frascati yesterday?” con- 
tinued Stertzl. 

This almost literal repetition of his brother’s 
question awakened in Sempaly the most unpleasant 
and humiliating recollections of the scene of the 
day before. His eyes flashed angrily and he re- 
mained silent. 

Stertzl no longer knew himself. All the bitter- 
ness which the past six weeks had poured into his 
heart was fermenting within him, and suddenly 
his eyes, too, fell upon the unlucky valise. He 
shot beyond the mark. 

"VVliat happened then ? . . , 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


239 

Aflasli like lightning passed before the general’s 
eyes, unexpected and inevitable. 

Stertzl took a step forward, and struck Sempaly 
a blow in the face with the accursed journal. 

At the same moment the servant entered the 
room with the breakfast- things. 

A few minutes later Stertzl and the general, 
silent as death, and without looking at each other, 
descended the stone stairway of the Palazzo Venezia 
together. 

Outside, in the Piazza, the young diplomat stopped 
a moment and took a deep breath. 

“ Sempaly will send me his seconds in the course 
of the forenoon,” he began; “I must ask you to 
act on my part.” 

The general nodded his head in silence. 

“I will let Crespigny know, too,” Stertzl con- 
tinued, “ and then you may arrange matters as you 
like.” 

The general did not reply. His silence irritated 
Stertzl. “I could not bear any more,” he mur- 
mured, as if delirious; “you think — too hasty — 
after all !” 

They had reached the Corso, when Siegburg came 
toward them, lively ajid cheerful as usual, with 
his hat pushed, carelessly back from his forehead. 

“Glad to be the first to congratulate you, Stertzl,” 
he cried. 

“On what?” asked Stertzl shortly. 

“Why, on your sister’s engagement to Sempaly. 
Haven’t you heard of it yet?” 


240 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Stertzl was completely bewildered. “ What are 
you talking about?” he stammered. “ I don’t under- 
stand you.” 

“Is it possible that you do not know about it?” 
began Siegburg. “ The bomb exploded last night — 
that is, Nicki declared his engagement to us. Os- 
car, to whom the whole thing was new — let us 
go into this caf^ for a few minutes; I’ll tell you all 
about it there ; there are certain things that can’t 
be talked about in the street.” 

“I — I have no time,” muttered Stertzl with dull, 
fixed eyes ; and with that he shot past Siegburg with 
quick, hurried steps. He walked unsteadily, and 
several times came into collision with passers-by. 

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Siegburg, 
following him with his eyes. “ I wanted to give 
him a pleasure, and now — well, some people are 
hard to understand This engagement will make a 
sensation in Vienna, eh, general? But I approve 
of it — approve of it entirely. We are on the thresh- 
old of a new era, as Schiller — or who was it? per- 
haps Bismarck — has said, and we can say to our 
children: ‘ We were there at the time!’ But what 
ails you both, you and Stertzl? Qa! You had just 
come from the Palazzo Venezia. Is it possible that 
Stertzl and Nicki, through a misunderstanding, 
have had a collision?” 

The general gave a brief assent. 

“ Too bad ! But that can easily be smoothed over 
now,” remarked Siegburg in consolation, 


CHAPTER XL 


When Stertzl reached the Palazetto he found 
the letter which Sempaly had written before leav- 
ing for Frascati. The concierge, according to' his 
orders, had sent it to the secretary’s office; but as 
Stertzl had not gone to the legation on that day, the 
letter had lain there until the next morning, when 
it had been forwarded to his residence. When the 
latter had read it his head sank upon his hands. 

Shortly after he received a call from Sempaly’s 
seconds, Siegburg and an attach^ of the Russian 
legation. 

No, it could not be smoothed over; the ''point 
(P honneur," under the circumstances, did not admit 
of any amicable adjustment of the affair. What is 
the "point d' honneur A social prejudice which is 
a part of bon ton and the religion of the nobleman. 

Prior to his final departure for Constantinople 
Stertzl was to go on business of the embassy to 
Vienna, leaving by the eleven o’clock train that 
same night. In consequence of this it was imper- 
ative that the matter should be settled that day. 
Aside from appointing the time for the duel, Stertzl 
left all the arrangements to his two seconds, Gen- 
eral Von Klinger and Crespigny. 
i6 241 


242 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

“Swords, 7 P.M., in the ruined church opposite 
the tomb of Cecilia Metella,” was the agreement. 

It was after six when the three, Stertzl and his 
two seconds, left the Palazetto. After passing 
through the dark, murky labyrinth of streets which 
leads to the Forum, the carriage rolled along the 
foot of the Palatine, past the Coliseum, through 
the Arch of Constantine into the Appian Way, 
on and on between gray walls with a greenish 
tinge, over which brown ruins and tall black 
cypress trees looked down upon the passers-by. 

The walls disappeared ; thick green hedges inter- 
woven with luxuriant creepers lined the road. 
With its sweet yet solemn melancholy, with its 
baneful beauty of blooming orchids and asphodels, 
which, like a wild, delirious dream, hovers every 
spring over its desolate monotony, the Campagna 
spread its green carpet over the plain. 

Stertzl sat in silence on the back-seat of the car- 
riage, opposite his seconds. He did not take the 
trouble to make a display of courage. Very brave 
men often face death with indifference, hardly ever 
with levity. 

Death, after all, is a magnate' to whom reverence 
is due. 

Something oppressed Stertzl ; but his two friends, 
who were acquainted not only with his character, 
but also with the circumstances connected with 
the duel, knew that that something was not anxiety 
for his own fate. 

No! He could not banish from his mind the 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


243 


misfortune which he alone had brought about by 
his unbridled temper, his want of self-control. It 
did not occur to him that this betrothal, enforced 
by a series of indiscretions and accidents, could 
hardly have led to a harmonious marriage. He 
had forgotten Sempaly’s faults. He remembered 
only one thing: his sister might have had the 
moon for her own, and he, he alone, had defrauded 
her of this ideal happiness ! 

A wondrous fragrance emanated from the or- 
chids, from the blooming hedges, from the tender 
foliage of the trees. It permeated the atmosphere 
as if it were the lovely soul of spring, and bore 
sweet reminiscences of youth to the heart of the 
man who sat there, brooding gloomily. He thought 
of the large, neglected orchard in Alinkau, his 
parents’ estate, of a morning in the last month of 
May which he had spent there before he entered 
the Theresianum. The old apple-trees were clad 
in their rosy garment of blossoms. Butterflies 
hovered about in the air, and the first forget- 
me-nots were in bloom among the blackberry bushes 
on the banks of the brook, which glided, murmur- 
ing sleepily, straight across the orchard, over- 
shadowed by a row of stunted alders. The air was 
filled with fragrance, from the ground, from the 
trees, from the blossoms, just like to-day; and 
Zinka, who was quite a little child at the time, 
came tripping up to Cecil, and said, quite confiden- 
tially and with great importance : 

God must have left the door of heaven open ; 


244 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


that’s the reason it smells so good here — don’t you 
think so?” 

She wore a white long-sleeved apron, and had 
long golden hair, and clung to her big brother so 
trustingly with her delicate, helpless little fingers. 
And he took her in his arms and answered: “Yes, 
Zini, God left the door of heaven open, and you 
slipped out, you darling little angel!” Oh, the 
big, wondering eyes with which she looked at him 
upon this! 

She had always been his darling ; his father had . 
commended her to his care on his death-bed, and | 

now “Poor little butterfly!” he murmured to ^ 

himself in an undertone. | 

“ Do not spare him too much,” a deep voice said 
to him. It was Crespigny, who recalled him from 
the dreams which had taken him back to his youth , 
and his home. “ Do not spare him too much, i 
You have everything in your favor — practice, skill, 
and force! Sempaly, however — I know his style 
of fencing thoroughly — has one extremely dan- ; 
gerous quality; you never know what to expect ' 
from him !” 

Stertzl looked over his shoulder. The tomb of 
Cecilia Metella, the end of their journey, loomed 
up before him. 


CHAPTER XIL 


Opposite the Metella Tomb, with its stern 
heathen grandeur and its mediaeval fortifications, 
there stands, half -destroyed, wholly deserted, a 
ruin in primitive Gothic style, which has the blue 
sky for a roof. A weather-beaten cross, set in the 
decaying masonry above the crumbling portal, 
designates it as a church of the time of early Chris- 
tian enthusiasm. Opposite the entrance a vaulted 
recess, still perfect, shows the place where the altar 
stood. No decoration whatever — not even the 
smallest trace of a bas-relief — is to be seen any- 
where. Only delicate ferns, soft, emerald-hued 
maiden-hair cling to the decaying walls. The 
ground inside is level like that of a parqueted floor, 
and covered with fine turf, from which in spring 
many thousands of speckled red-and-white daisies 
smile up to the sky. In the corners and along the 
foot of the walls, a luxuriant growth of blind net- 
tles send up a musty odor. 

When Stertzl and his friends entered the ruin, 
their opponents were already on the spot. Sem- 
paly was talking calmly, but without forced 
levity, with the Russian attach^, and greeted the 
others on their appearance with grave courtesy. 
His bearing was perfect. With all his capricious 
245 


246 THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

vacillations of character and fits of nervousness, he 
yet possessed, when necessary, in the highest de- 
gree, the imperturbable mental discipline of a man 
of the world, with whom it is quite as much a matter 
of course that he should fight a duel on certain oc- 
casions as that he should take off his hat on others. 

Siegburg was constantly charging color; the 
others were all perfectly self-possessed. 

Some of the gentlemen examined the premises 
and the immediate neighborhood, in order to guard 
against uncalled-for listeners. All was still as 
death. The '' vigna' behind the church, having 
recently been devastated by fever, was deserted. 

The necessary formalities were quickly concluded. 
Sempaly and Stertzl had divested themselves of 
their coats and vests, and stood at the places 
marked out by their seconds. 

The latter gave the signal. “Go!” resounded 
through the stillness, followed immediately by the 
click of the meeting swords. Whoever has experi- 
enced the excitement of a slowly approaching, dis- 
tinctly defined danger will remember how, when 
the dreaded decisive moment has arrived, the ten- 
sion of the nerves suddenly relaxes, the uneasiness 
vanishes, anxiety dies out, and the whole life of 
the soul is concentrated in a breathless curiosity. 

This was the case with the general and Siegburg. 

They followed the duel with an interest which 
was almost cold. 

Sempaly had made the first start, and that with ^ 
some vehemence. Stertzl kept himself strictly on 


i 




The hand of destiny. 247 

the defensive. He had the German habit of occa- 
sionally enforcing his thrusts with the weight of 
his whole body, which, together with his skill in 
other respects, gave him a terrible advantage over 
an opponent who was physically weaker than he. 
The consciousness of his superiority seemed at 
first to paralyze him. The duel became intensely 
interesting from a purely technical point of view. 
Sempaly developed a fabulous agility, which made 
it impossible, as Crespigny had said, ever to know 
what to expect from him, but which glanced off 
from Stertzl’s iron imperturbability. The latter 
evidently counted on tiring out his opponent, and 
then closing the combat with a slight injury. His 
sword entered Sempaly ’s shoulder, but the latter 
made no account of the wound; “ It was nothing,” 
he said. After a short intermission the combat 
began anew. 

Sempaly began to look pale and exhausted ; his 
thrusts became short, sharp, and vehement. 
Sterzl’s face, on the other hand, grew more ani- 
mated. Like every lover of fencing in a prolonged 
combat, he had warmed up, and was fighting as if 
he were in a fencing-hall, without considering the 
result of his actions. Affairs looked bad for Sem- 
paly. 

Suddenly the death-like silence was broken by a 
thin, shallow boy-soprano singing at a distance: 

“ Vieni Maggio, vieni primavera." 

Stertzl started; he thought of the evening when 
Zinka had sung that stornello to Sempaly. The 


24 ^ THE HAND OF DESTINY. 

romantic trait which was so closely intergrown with 
his nature burst its bounds. He lost his compos- 
ure ; for fear of injuring Sempaly he forgot to guard 
himself, and suddenly, as if he had never had a 
sword in his hand, awkwardly exposed himself com- 
pletely. The seconds tried to interfere — it was 
too late. 

With the hardly audible sound made by hard 
steel in penetrating the flesh, Sempaly’s sword en- 
tered his opponent’s side; Stertzl’s yellow flannel 
shirt was dyed with blood, his eyes became fixed, 
the weapon fell from his hand ; he took a step for- 
ward, then another, and then sank to the ground 
unconscious. The duel was ended. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Fifteen minutes later a temporary bandage had 
been applied, and in the landau, closed now, where 
a bed had been prepared for the wounded man, as 
well as feasible, by pushing the cushions between 
the seats, the general, supporting Stertzl, who was 
moaning unconsciously, drove back to Rome with 
him and the doctor, slowly — slowly. 

Twilight spreads over the Campagna ; from time 
to time the general casts a look out of the carriage 
to see how near they are to the city. The street 
of tombs grows more and more lonely and weird. 
Once a cart with peasants from the Campagna, 
singing loudly, rattles past ; farther on a couple of 
monks, clad in white, are standing before a church, 
holding torches that cast a reddish glare around 
them; then the street is empty. Black as pitch 
the cypresses loom up against the pale evening sky, 
and the Campagna grows gray. They pass beneath 
the Arch of Constantine, the horses’ hoofs clatter 
noisily on the pavement. Slowly — slowly. 

The drowsy street-lanterns of Rome blink out 
into the pallid evening atmosphere. The carriage 
has reached the Corso. It is the hour when, almost 
wholly cleared of vehicles, that thoroughfare is 
249 


THE HAND OF DESTInV. 


^50 

filled with lounging idlers. Bright light shines | 
from the cafes. The closed landau, rolling along ^ 
so slowly, attracts attention. The loungers col- « 
lect in groups and whisper to each other as 
the carriage is passing. The latter has reached ^ 

the Palazetto and turns into the portal. The 8 

general and the doctor alight. The concierge | 

comes out of his lodge, his dog jumps up against I 

the general and barks aloud. “Quiet!” cries the - 

old gentleman, “quiet!” The servants come rush- 
ing down the stairs, the women sob, and again, 
only more peremptorily and more impressively, the : 
general cries, “Quiet, be quiet!” as if it mattered 
anything now whether Zinka learns the great mis- 
fortune which has befallen her a minute sooner or » 
later. 

With difficulty they carry the large body up the 
stairs ; their heavy, stumbling steps resound through 
the silence. 

Suddenly they hear Zinka’s voice uttering a 
startled ejaculation, then a harsh reprimand from 
the baroness; the doors fly open, and Zinka rushes 
to meet them. A broken, half -stifled cry breaks 
from her lips — a cry like that by which we try to 
rouse ourselves from an evil dream ! 

Sadly they repulsed the women and carried him 
to his room. While they were still busied around 

his bed, the servant showed Dr. E , the German 

consulting physician previously mentioned in these 
pages, into the sick-room. He had been sent by 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. ^51 

Sempaly, who, driving quickly, had reached Rome 
a full hour earlier than the general with the 
wounded man. With the most minute attention. Dr. 

E examined the patient, bandaged the wound 

with his accustomed skill, wrote a prescription, and 
ordered ice-compresses. At the door of the sick- 
room the ladies were anxiously awaiting his ver- 
dict; he pressed their hands sympathizingly in 
passing, and assured them, with the benevolent, 
hope-encouraging smile to which he owes the 
greater part of his extensive practice, that the 
night would be quiet. 

But in the presence of the general, who accom- 
panied him downstairs, the smile disappeared. 

“ Is the wound dangerous?” asked the old gentle- 
man with a beating heart. 

The doctor shook his head. “ Are you a relative 
of the patient?” he inquired. 

“No, but a very old friend.” 

“ The wound is fatal, ” said Dr. E . “ I may be 

mistaken — I may be mistaken — Nature works 
wonders sometimes, and the patient is splendidly 
organized. What muscles! I have hardly ever 
seen anything like it — but, as far as human fore- 
sight goes ” He made a gesture which signed 

Sterzhs death-warrant unmistakably. “ It will be 
some consolation for the relatives, at any rate, to 
know that everything has been done which could 
have averted the catastrophe,” he continued; “I 
will come again to-morrow to see how matters go 
on. You had better send that prescription to the 


2^2 THE HAND OF DESTiNV. 

pharmacy of the French legation; it is the most 
reliable. Good-night!” 

With these words he entered his carriage, which 
was awaiting him at the door. 

The general gave the prescription to the con- 
cierge. Obligingly and with a truly Italian free« 
dom from airs, the man rushed away without hia 
hat to have it made up. As if the matter had been 
pressing ! 

Having composed himself with difficulty, the old 
soldier returned to the sick-room. Zinka, trem- 
bling with fear, stood at the foot of the bed, pale 
and tearless, in an almost humble attitude. The 
baroness paced to and fro, sobbing violently, and 
alternately wringing her hands and pushing her hair 
off her temples. She of course overwhelmed the 
general with questions regarding the physician’s 
diagnosis. His evasive answers sufficed to fill her 
with the most unreasonable hopes, and to revive 
anew the instinct of worldliness which the anxiety 
for her son had subdued for a while. “Yes, yes,” 
she whimpered, “ the night will be quiet ; all will 
come right yet. It would be too hard if such a brill- 
iant career should come to an end — but he will have 
to give up Constantinople for the present.” 

Zinka had grown still paler at the general’s 
words, but she remained silent. 

That a duel had taken place, both she and her 
mother had guessed. What did she infer from 
this? What did she think? What did she feel? 
She never could tell later on. Her soul was dark, 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 253 

her heart was cold. Her whole being was be- 
numbed with boundless terror. 

By long, urgent and skilful persuasion, the gen- 
eral succeeded in inducing the baroness to leave the 
room and to lie down for a while, “ so as to save her- 
self for the patient.” 

Hardly had the door closed behind her, when 
the servant entered softly and announced Count 
Truyn. 

At the sound of his name Zinka turned her head. 
The general went to the door to receive him. “ May 
I bring him in?” he asked. Zinka nodded. 

Having been informed of the tragedy by Sieg- 
burg, Truyn had immediately hastened to the Pala- 
zetto, although it was eleven o’clock. 

He went toward Zinka in silence. The simple 
warmth with which, without uttering a word, he 
took both her hands in his, the deep pity, the 
heartfelt grief at not being able to help, which 
shone from his eyes, warmed her ; the numbness 
which held her whole being enchained gave way. 
Tears rushed from her eyes; a low, broken wail 
came from her lips; and, restraining her sobs 
with difficulty, she murmured, hardly intelligibly: 
“There is no hope — no hope at all!” 

His mother’s loud lamentations had not disturbed 
the dying man ; the first half-suppressed tone of 
sorrow which Zinka uttered waked him. His 
limbs began to twitch restlessly; then he slowly 
opened his large eyes, the whites of which had a 
dark lustre like polished silver, and fixed them 


254 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Upon his sister. From her his glance .slowly and 
wearily turned to a bloody cloth which had been 
forgotten, then upon the general. Slowly and 
with difficulty he seemed to comprehend the situa- 
tion. He struggled for breath, made impatient 
motions with his hands and shoulders ; finally, his 
whole body was strongly convulsed. Conscious- 
ness had returned to him; he drew a deep breath. 

The first thing that he remembered were his 
official duties. 

“Have you informed the ambassador?” he asked 
the general almost with vehemence. 

“ No, not yet.” 

“ Hurry, then, I beg of you; they must telegraph 
to Vienna.” 

“Very well,” replied the general in a soothing 
tone, “ I will attend to it. Will you have the good- 
ness to wait here till I return?” he inquired of 
Truyn ; then he hastened away. 

For a moment silence reigned; then Stertzl be- 
gan in a low voice : 

“ Do you know how it all came about. Count 
Truyn?” 

Truyn bowed his head. 

“And you, Zini?” asked Stertzl, sadly fixing his 
eyes on the girl’s pale face. 

“I know that you are suffering,” she replied; 
“that is enough for me.” 

“Oh, Zini ” 

Stertzl struggled for breath, stretched out his 
hapd to Zinkaj and said hoarsely and indistinctly: 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


255 


“ Zini— butterfly— it was all my fault— I have spoilt 

everything for you — I alone ” 

She wanted to stop him. “ Don’t excite yourself,” 
she whispered, bending over him affectionately; 

leave all that till you are better. I know very 
well that you love me, and that you would have got 
me the stars from the sky if you could only have 
reached them.” 

A torturing restlessness came over him. 

“No, Zini, no; you could have had the stars,” 
he gasped in a sort of muffled, breathless stac- 
cato ; “ the loveliest stars — Sempaly was not in 
fault — I alone — the prince had been informed — but 
— I was exasperated — I forgot myself — and then 

all was over! A drop of water, Zini, please ” 

She gave him water; he drank greedily. He 
repulsed the hand with which she tried gently to 
close his lips, and continued impetuously, though 
with a very weak voice : “ I must tell you — else my 
heart will burst. Yonder is my writing-desk, 
count — in the little drawer on the left — you’ll find 
a letter to Zinka — pray give it to her!” 

Truyn did as he wished. The letter was sealed 
and addressed to Zinka in Stertzl’s fine, regular 
handwriting. She opened it; it contained the 
lines which Sempaly had written before going to 
Frascati. For the case that they should reach Zin- 
ka’s hands only after his death, Stertzl had added a 
few explanatory words. She read. The dying 
man anxiously watched the expression of her face. 
That expression did not change in the least. Sem^ 


256 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


paly’s words passed over her heart without toueh- 
ing it. After she had finished the letter she 
remained silent. Two red spots burned upon her 
white cheeks. 

“I received the letter — too late,” said Stertzl dis- 
consolately; “the general — will tell you — how it all 
happened — I did not know — what I was about — 
but — I spared him. Therefore forgive me — and 
act — as if I — had never existed. I can only — rest 
quietly — in my grave — if I know — that you — are 
happy !” 

She still remained silent; her large eyes had 
grown very dark, but it was not grief for lost hap- 
piness which glowed within them. 

Suddenly she tore the letter into pieces, and let 
them fall upon the floor. “ And if he had written 
ten letters,” she cried, “ that would make no differ- 
ence now. Do not trouble yourself about it, Cecil ; 
it is all over. If nothing stood between us I could 
not be his wife. I no longer love him. He seems 
to me so small beside you!” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


The account was closed between the brother 
and sister, the discord resolved. For more than 
twenty-four hours longer Cecil struggled with life. 
Zinka did not leave his bedside. The conscious- 
ness of their mutual, unrestrained affection seemed 
to mingle a kind of soothing melancholy with the 
deep sorrow of the two. The physical pain which 
he suffered was terrible, particularly during the 
first night and the forenoon following upon it. 
Nevertheless, he bore his tortures with the greatest 
fortitude, and only the slight twitching of his hands 
and the involuntary distortion of his features be- 
trayed his sufferings. He was conscious most of 
the time. 

He rejected the palliating opiates prescribed by 

Dr. E ; he wished to “keep his head clear” as 

long as possible. 

When Zinka, approaching the subject with the 
tenderest consideration, begged him to receive the 
Last Sacrament, he granted her wish. “ If it will be 
a comfort to you, butterfly,” he said hardly above 
his breath, and received the priest with due rever- 
ence and perfect composure. 

In the afternoon he felt rather more easy. Zinka 
began to hope. “You feel better,” she whispered 

17 257 


258 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


beseechingly again and again ; “ you feel better , do 
you not?” 

“ I have much less pain,” he answered. 

Then she began to make plans for the future ; he 
smiled sadly. 

It was impossible to meet death with more dig- 
nity — and it was so hard for him to die ! 

The sympathy awakened by the great misfor- 
tune which had befallen him was universal. Like 
wild-fire the terrible intelligence spread abroad. 
A sort of panic seized upon society. There was no 
one on that day who had ever uttered a frivolous 
word about Stertzl or his sister who did not regret 
it bitterly. Every one came or sent to the Palazetto 
to obtain the latest news. 

From time to time the baroness would triumph- 
antly bring to her son’s bedside the turned-down 
card of some person of high rank, and report: 

“ N or B called in person to inquire about 

you.” 

Later on, the patient fell into a restless, feverish 
slumber. Zinka and the general did not stir from 
his room. The windows were open, but the air 
which came in from outside through the lowered 
Venetian blinds was sultry and oppressive. Straw 
was spread along the pavement in front of the 
Palazetto; the muffled sound of wheels reached 
the sick-room from the Corso. 

Tv/ilight was falling-, the rolling of the carriages 
had ceased. 

Suddenly the silence of the evening was broken 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 259 

by the sound of the irregular, slow steps of a great 
number of people, accompanied by a mournful, 
solemn melody. Zinka started up to close the 
window. Too late! The sleeper had already 
opened his eyes. He listened. “A funeral!” he 
murmured. 

From that time he grew restless. His sufferings 
began anew. He plucked at the counterpane, 
tossed his head about on his pillow incessantly, 
spoke of his will, asked the general to note down 
some slight changes which he wished to have made 
in it, and when Zinka besought him : “ Do not trouble 
yourself about that now; leave it till later,” he 
shook his head, and then murmured in a half-ex- 
tinct voice, which trembled with pain : “ I must 
make haste — I have no time to spare — no time to 
spare!” 

But as Zinka, unable to control herself, was 
about to hasten from the room to hide her tears, 
he held her back. “Stay, darling — stay, Zini,” he 
said ; “ cry, if it relieves your heart ; cry as much 
as you like. Poor little butterfly — you’ll miss me 
a little after all !” 

Once only he broke down entirely. He had 
asked that a messenger might be sent to the Palazzo 
Venezia for an English paper in which he was par- 
ticularly interested on account of a political ques- 
tion pending at the time. 

His excellency the ambassador brought the 
paper himself, and approached the bedside deeply 
moved. 


26 o 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


“ How are you — how are you? You were right. 
Stertzl; Ignatiew has really — most remarkable — 
you have the gift of divination — I shall miss you 

very much when you are in Constantinople ” 

He could not go on. A painful pause ensued. 

“I’m going somewhat farther than Constantino- 
ple,” murmured Stertzl at last; “I wonder who 

will take my place ” His voice failed him, and, 

with a moan, he hid his face in the pillow. 

Toward midnight the death-struggle commenced. 
Dr. E had told the general that it would prob- 

ably be terrible. They tried in vain to induce Zinka 
to leave the room. All night long she knelt by the 
bedside, in her tumbled white dress, and prayed. 

At five in the morning the death-rattle ceased. 
It seemed as if all was over, but suddenly the 
dying man began to utter single disconnected 
words. A strange, expressive look, which seemed 
to penetrate into the far distance, and which is 
seen only in dying persons, shone from his eyes. 
“Do not cry, child,” he breathed hardly audibly, 
“ all will come right yet.” Then, with an effort, he 
made a groping movement with his hand, as if he 
were trying to find something — seemed to be follow- 
ing a thought which he could no longer grasp. His 
eyes fixed themselves for the last time upon his 
sister. “Go to bed, Zini,” he whispered; “I feel 
better — I ’ m sleepy — Constantino ’ ’ 

He turned his head to the wall and drew a deep, 
placid breath. 

All was over; he had begun his journey! The 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


261 


general closed the eyes of the dead and led Zinka 
from the room. Outside, in the arched passage, stood 
a bent figure. It was Sempaly. Tortured by remorse 
and anxiety, he had crept into the Palazetto. He 
stood there, pale, haggard, with trembling hands 
and fixed eyes. 

She did not shrink from him; she passed by 
him; she did not see him. 


The glorious morning-light of the South lay 
warm and golden upon the court surrounded by 
arcades. In one corner, filled with black shadows, 
a host of light-blue butterflies were gambolling, like 
a piece of sky torn in a thousand pieces. 

It was the corner where stood the wounded 
Amazon ! 


CHAPTER XV. 


Thanks to Siegburg’s indiscretions, which, as 
usual, displayed a great deal of tact, all Rome soon 
knew that Prince Sempaly, on the evening before 
the duel, had given his consent to his brother’s mar- 
riage with Fraulein Stertzl. It was also informed 
of Stertzl ’s outbreak of temper, and of his heavy 
expiation, so disproportioned to his fault. The 
firm, never-wavering friendship which Princess 
Vulpini, noble woman that she vras, exhibited for 
Zinka in those days, intimidated all evil tongues, 
and saved her reputation. 

A strong reaction in favor of the Stertzls took 
place in the opinion of society. It was suddenly 
considered improper, narrow-minded, even mauvais 
genre, to cast a slur on Zinka; she and Cecil were 
now des gens tout h fait exceptionnels'' 

The deceased had expressed a desire to be buried 
in his native soil. The body was embalmed and . 
lay in state in a large empty hall, in which the 
baroness had once intended to give a ball. The 
walls, the floor, the catafalque were covered with 
flowers. It was a true Roman '' in for at a'' The 
windows were darkened; hundreds of huge wax 
candles, with their mild, reddish flames, sent their 
flickering light through the lofty hall. 

262 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


263 


Countess Ilsenbergh and the latinskys were pres- 
ent at the funeral services. The catafalque -was 
surrounded by a crowd of persons of high rank, 
clad in solemn black. No jour' of the baroness 
had ever seen so brilliant an assembly. Her 
affected mien plainly showed that this circum- 
stance gave her a degree of satisfaction which, at 
such a moment, was simply horrible. There she 
stood, beside the coffin, wrapped in long trailing 
crape-trimmed draperies, a handkerchief with a 
broad black border in her hand, two miserable tears 
on her cheeks, and — received. 

People pressed her hand and said a few words 
of superficial sympathy, and she murmured : “ How 
comforting!” 

And when they had disposed of the mother, they 
looked about for the sister. They would really 
have liked to prove to her, or at least show her, 
how sincerely they sympathized with her in her 
great sorrow. But they could not find her, and 
when finally one of the ladies exclaimed in a low, 
half-startled tone: “There she is!” they all looked 
at the dark corner where Princess Vulpini, with a 
tenderness like that of a mother, was bending over 
a trembling, deathly-pale young creature, quite be- 
side herself with grief ; but none of them had the 
courage to approach her. Only Countess Nini, who 
looked almost as wretched as Zinka herself, went to 
her, took her in her arms, and kissed her. 

The next morning masses were read in St. 
Marco’s Chapel in the Palazzo Venezia. A vocal 


264 tHE HAND OF DESTINY. 

quartet sang- the same sweet, melting allegretto 
from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony which had 
been played only three months before in connection 
with the Lady Jane Grey tableau. 

A week later the Stertzls left Rome. Up to the 
last hour, the baroness received visits of condo- 
lence. Again and again she repeated her monot- 
onous formula of grief : “ A career so brilliantly 
begun ! 

Zinka never appeared in the drawing-room, and 
only a few ventured to look her up in her little 
boudoir. Worn to a shadow, with eyes swollen 
and dimmed with weeping, and sharpened features, 
she presented a truly heart-rending appearance, 
and seemed, after the first violence of her grief had 
diminished, only to grow more and more disconso- 
late. 

This is the case with all deeper natures. 

In its first stages, sorrow for the death of one 
we love is always mingled with a kind of re- 
bellion against our fate — a delirium in which we 
finally forget everything, even the cause of our 
grief. But when our eyes have become dry and 
our heart is weary with beating, when we have 
said for the first time, “I must submit,” then we 
recognize the great void which death has caused 
in our life ; we feel how empty, still, and cold it has 
grown around us. 

Day by day Zinka realized more fully what she 
had lost. It seemed as if she were continually 
groping about for the strong arm which had sup- 


’IHE HAND OF DESTINV. 265 

ported her so tenderly. The general and Princess 
Vulpini vied in doing all in their power to help her 
over this terrible time. The one whose presence 
was most consoling to her was Truyn ; and several 
times, after seven o’clock, when she could be sure 
of not meeting anybody, she stole out to the Hotel 
de r Europe to Gabrielle, and it was touching 
to see how tenderly the little girl sympathized with 
the sorrow of her older friend, and what loving 
pity she bestowed upon her. 

On the morning of the Stertzls’ departure, Truyn 
and the general came to the station to see them off. 
Truyn entered the compartment to raise a window 
which the maid could not open. When he had fin- 
ished, Zinka laid both her hands in his. “ May God 
reward you for your kindness !” she said, and raised 
her face to be kissed. He hesitated a moment, 
then made the sign of the cross on her forehead, 
and gently touched her golden hair with his lips. 

"''Alt revoir ! ” he murmured brokenly, bowed to 
the baroness, and left the compartment. 

When he reached the platform, he was very red 
and his eyes glistened. With bared head he looked 
after the departing train, from which a little face 
was bowing a farewell greeting. 

“ 1/ a man, at least, had the right to care for her!” 
he murmured. 


CHAPTER XVL 


And now only a few words more in conclusion. 

Baroness vSterztl was one of the few persons who 
have no redeeming point whatever. At the Mora- 
vian estate to which she withdrew after her son’s 
death, she found her life extremely dull, and 
treated Zinka with the most unkind severity. 
Totally soured and embittered, she was constantly 
whimpering, and, by her gloomy face and her in- 
cessant complaints, made every one unhappy who 
came near her. At the end of her first year of 
mourning, a craving for excitement awoke within 
her. She made excursions to various baths, as well 
as to Vienna, where she assembled the remnants 
of her old circle around her, and endeavored to as- 
tonish all her former acquaintances by the relation 
of her splendid Roman reminiscences. At the 
same time she still wore crape on her dresses, and 
made use of black-edged letter-paper. She never 
ceased to speak of herself as a broken-hearted 
mother, and tried to surround herself, as it were, 
with the nimbus of a Niobe; at bottom, however, 
her ostentatious grief was nothing but a last ped- 
estal for her vanity. 

The caustic artist-general declared that, in re- 
ality, she was proud of her son having been killed 
by “ a Sempaly.” 


266 


• The Hand of destiny.. 267 

She died, about three years after the catastrophe, 
of a catarrh of the lungs, which took a fatal turn 
only because, although she already felt its symp- 
toms, she insisted upon attending, with a friend 
from the '' Sacr^ CceuTy'' on a very cold day, the 
washing of the pilgrims’ feet in the imperial palace. 

Zinka mourned for her mother more deeply than 
would ever have been expected. 

She passed both summer and winter, year after 
year, at Alinkati, where Gabrielle Truyn, with her 
governess, frequently made her a visit of some 
weeks. Truyn came rarely, and never remained 
longer than a few hours . But only those who knev/ 
how closely he was attached to his daughter could 
realize the sacrifice which he made for Zinka in 
parting with his “ little comrade” so often for her 
sake. 

With Princess Vulpini Zinka carried on the 
most affectionate correspondence. Her sorrow 
faded only very, very slowly; but, like all truly 
noble natures, she appeared wondrously refined by 
it. She devoted her whole existence to the most 
self-sacrificing benevolence ; the only pleasure 
which for years harmonized with her morbid state of 
mind,was the alleviation of the suffering of others. 

Soon after the death of the baroness. General 
Von Klinger left Europe; he returned only last 
spring, disembarked at Plavre de Grace, and went 
to Paris, where he stopped for a few days to study 
the Salon, intending to go home from there. 


268 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Thanks to the courtesy of a well-known artist, he 
was permitted to visit the exhibition on the so- 
called “ varnishing-day” — the day before the actual 
opening. 

Among the many ^'femmes du monde,'' who, un- 
der the segis of their drawing-master or of the 
''artiste de la maison,'" had stolen an entrance with- 
out being in the least entitled to it, in order to enjoy 
the first-fruits of the Salon, the general remarked 
a young lady of uncommon beauty, who, with her 
head high in the air, was passing from one picture 
to another with an exceedingly light and at the 
same time energetic step, and criticising the mas- 
terpieces surrounding her with the implacable 
severity and self-sufficiency of a fanatical novice in 
art. 

There was something so refined in her charming 
exterior, something so droll in her naive arrogance, 
so much of childlike confidence in the manner in 
which she conversed with the old gentleman — one 
of the most noted of the Paris artists, who seemed 
to be acting as her guide through this labyrinth — 
that our military friend could not refrain from 
watching her with much pleasure. 

Suddenly she observed him, looked at him 
keenly, and approached him with the most charm- 
ing frankness. “ Why, general ! Have you got 
back at last? How glad papa will be! You have 
not changed in the least.” 

“ But you have changed all the more, Countess 
Gabrielle,” he replied. 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


269 

“Well, of course. When was it that we met 
last— four years ago, at Zini’s, wasn’t it? Why, I 
was a child at that time,” she chatted gayly, “but 
now I am grown up ; and what is more — only think, 
general ! — I have a picture here, a tiny water-color” 
(at this she blushed a little, which made her look 
very much like her father) ; “you’ll take a look at 
it, won’t you?” 

“Of course,” he assured her, and then his eye 
fell upon her dress. “ It seems to me that you are 
in mourning,” he remarked. 

“ Yes, for poor mamma; it is almost a year since 
she died.” A momentary gravity clouded her feat- 
ures. “ Ah, there is papa !” she then cried, suddenly 
growing lively again ; “ we are always losing each 
other here in the Salon \ our tastes are totally 
different, you know — papa is entirely vieux jeu yet.” 

Truyn greeted the general with great warmth. 
Gabrielle’s glance meanwhile flashed archly from 
him to the old gentleman. The most roguish 
dimples appeared in her cheeks. At last she came 
close to her father and whispered something in his 
ear. 

At first he hesitated ; then he said, not without a 
slight tinge of embarrassment: “We are about to 
drive to the Hotel Bristol, where we are to lunch 
with my sister. She would be delighted, I am sure, 
if you would join us.” 

The general at first said something about indis- 
cretion, etc., but allowed himself to be persuaded, 
and drove with the two through the Champs 


2/0 


THE HAND OF DESTINY. 


Elysees, fragrant with myriads of blossoms glitter- 
ing from a recent rain, to the Place Vendome. 

“ Auntie,” cried Gabrielle merrily, as she entered 
the drawing-room, “ guess whom we have brought 
you!” 

“Ah!” cried the princess joyfully, “you have 
come just in the nick of time, general!” 

Suddenly his glance turned from her; there, 
somewhat behind her, stood Zinka ! 

The stamp of a great sorrow was impressed in- 
delibly upon her features ; yet her eyes showed a 
gleam of deep, quiet happiness which could well 
be reconciled to the memory of past grief. The 
lovely May of her life’s spring had passed away; 
but there was such an unspeakable charm about her 
whole appearance that even the freshness of Gabri- 
elle ’s eighteen years could not detract from it. 

Truyn approached her; an awkward silence fol- 
lowed. Suddenly Gabrielle began to laugh. 

“Don’t you suspect something, general?” she 
cried. 

“It is not announced yet,” stammered Truyn, 

“but you take such a warm interest in us all ” 

He took Zinka ’s hand. 

The general’s face was radiant with pleasure. 
He put his arm around Zinka and gave Truyn his 
hand in congratulation. 

Zinka, however, began to weep bitterly. “ O 
uncle,” she whispered, “if only Cecil could have 
lived to see this!” 


TPIE HAND OF DESTINY. 


271 


And Sempaly? 

After the terrible catastrophe he vanished from 
the scene, travelled in the East, and then re- 
appeared in the service. To a Sempaly all things 
are possible ! 

At this day he has the name of being one of the 
ablest of diplomats. 

A strange transformation has taken place in him. 
The agreeable trifler, the careless attacU, has be- 
come an exemplary official. His exterior, too, is 
changed. Ele is more distinguished in his appear- 
ance than ever, but his features have grown 
sharper. He is irritable, supercilious, and regard- 
less of others, and never hesitates to say the cutting 
words that are upon his tongue — to women as well 
as to men. Nevertheless, and more than ever, he 
exerts an almost boundless fascination over all who 
come in contact with him. 

Not long ago, as the general was waiting at a 
Hungarian frontier station for the connection with 
the Vienna train, he was struck by the fine voice 
of a traveller in an otter-skin coat, with travelling- 
cap drawn down over his forehead, who was giving 
his servant a brief, concise order. The old gentle- 
man looked up ; his eyes met those of the stranger ; 
it was Sempaly on his way from the East to 
Vienna. They fell into conversation, exchanging 
trivial phrases without quite warming to each other. 

Suddenly, Sempaly began, in his brusque manner, 
which has now become proverbial everywhere: 
‘'You were in Paris, were you not? A witness at 


272 THE HAND OF DESTINY, 

the wedding? What do you think of Truyn’s mar- 
riage?” 

“ I am delighted with it,” replied the general. 

“ Well, yes, everybody seems happy. Marie Vul- 
pini is enchanted, and Gabrielle proposed for her 
father, so they wrote me ! “ E7ifi7t, tout est pour le 

mieux dans le meilleur des mo7tdes possibles^" he con- 
tinued in his sharp, quick manner — “ and Zinka — 
how is she looking? The papers spoke of her as 
very beautiful.” 

“ She is still very charming,” said the old gentle- 
man with the careless garrulity of age. “ However, 
joy has always a transfiguring power; she regrets 
only one thing — that Cecil could not have lived to 
see it all.” 

At that moment he remembered the egregious 
blunder of which he had been guilty, and, in order 
to change the conversation to neutral ground, he 
hastily began to speak of Sempaly’s unusually rapid 
career, and expressed the opinion that it must 
make him very happy to have found so appropriate 
a sphere of action for his brilliant faculties. 

Sempaly gave him a keen look, and smiled with 
a peculiar expression. 

“ It is very strange, general,” he said, shrugging 
his shoulders, “ youth demands happiness of Fate as 
a right ; in riper years we beg for peace as a charity. 
We obtain more easily that which we demand, than 
that for which we beg, but we cannot keep it.” 


Finis. 


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places it within the reach of all. It is, undoubtedly, the best cheap dictionary made ; it contains all 
the words in general every-day use, with their most standard definitions and pronunciations. 

CRAIG (A.R., M.A.). YOUR LUCK’S IN YOUR 
HAND; or. The Science of Modern Palmistry, 
with some Account of the Gypsies. , Numerous 
illustrations. i2mo, cloth, gilt extra, $1.25. 

A recent revival of interest in this fascinating sludy has certainly proven the fact that Prof. 
Craig’s Palmistry is the most complete and satisfactory work on the subject extant — it shows the 
careful work of a master hand. Should there be a single “doubting Thomas” who does not 
believe “ your luck’s in your hand,” let him read the convincing arguments in this work and b® 
converted. 

CYCLOPEDIA OF BIBLE ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS, being a storehouse of Similes, Allegories, 
and Anecdotes. Edited by Rev. R. Newton, D.D. 
i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 

A treasury of spiritual riches borrowed from nature, art, history, biography, anecdote, at/d 
simile, by Christian authors of all countries and ages. A book full of wisdom and of the happiest 
ttlustrations of points of doctrine and morals. 


3 


CYCLOPEDIA OF THE ARTS AND 

SCIENCES : Botany, Zoology, Mineralogy, 

Geology, Astronomy, Geometry, Mathematics, 
Mechanics, Electricity, Chemistry, etc., etc. Illus- 
trated with over 3,000 wood engravings, i vol., 4to, 
cloth extra, $6.00 ; sheep, $7.50; or, in half morocco 
extra, $10.00. 

This popular Encyclopaedia is more than a first-class book of reference, it is a library of 
popular scientific treatises each one complete in itself, which places into the hands of the reader 
the means to procure for himself a thorough technical self-education. The several topics are 
handled with a view of a thorough instruction of these particular branches of knowledge, and 
all statements are precise and scientifically accurate. 

DANA (R. H., Jr.). Two Years Before the Mast, i 
vol., i2mo, $1.50. 

One of the most fascinating and instructive narratives of the sea ever written for young folks. 
.I he reader’s sympathies are enlisted with the hero from first to last, but the hardships and hair* 
iffeadth escapes he meets with would prevent most boys from emulating his example. 

X3UFFERIN. — Letters from High Latitudes. A 
Yacht Voyage to Iceland, Jan Mayen, and Spitz* 
bergen. By his Excellency the Earl of Dufferin, 
Governor-General of the Dominion of Canada. 
Authorized edition. With portrait and several illus- 
trations. 8vo, cloth extra, $1.50. 

T he titled author has given us in this work a narrative of a voyage replete with incident in the 
yacht “ Foam.” His impressions of the countries and people visited in the far North are written 
in a fresh and original style, in the purest English, and the account of the whole voyage is as 
jileasing and interesting as a work of fiction. 

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING’S 
POEMS. — The most satisfactory American edi- 
tion issued, printed from excellent type on paper of 
superior quality, with introductory essay by Henry 
T. Tuckerman. 3 vols., 8vo, gilt tops, $ 5 . 25 ; half 
calf extra, $10.50. 

The highest place among modem poetesses must be claimed for Mrs. Browning. In purity, 
loftiness of sentiment, feeling and in intellectual power she is excelled only by Tennyson, whose 
works it is evident she had carefully studied. Nearly all her poems bear the impress of deep 
and sometimes melancholy thought, but show a high and fervid imagination. Yier Sonnets from 
the Portuguese, are as passionate as Shakespeare’s, all eminently beautiful. Of her Aurora Leigh, 
Ruskin said “ that is the greatest poem which this century has produced in any language.” 


r ESTUS. — A Poem by Philip James Bailey. With 
choice steel plates, by Hammett Billings. Beau- 
tifully printed. 4to, cloth, gilt, $3.00; do., do., full 
gilt and gilt edges, $5.00. 

GAUTIER (Theophile). One of Cleopatra’s Nights 
and Other Fantastic Stories. Translated from the 
French by Lafcadio Hearn. 8vo, cloth extra, gilt 
top, $1.75. 

A brilliant and intensely fascinating collection of stories from the pen of the inimitable Gautier, 
they are excellent specimens of his work in his brightest and happiest vein ; the scenes are auda* 
ciously limned, and distinguished for their conscientious fidelity to nature. 


GRAY. — The works of Thomas Gray, in Prose and 
Verse. Edited by Edmund Goose, Lecturer of 
English Literature at the University of Cambridge. 
With portraits, fac-similes, etc. 4 vols., crown 8vo, 
cloth, gilt top, $6.00 ; half calf, $12.00. 

“ Every lover of English literature will welcome the works of Gray, the author of the immortav 
'Elegy written in a Country Churchyard,’ from the hands of an editor so accomplished as Mr. 
Gosse. His competency for the task has been known for some time to students of poetry, and 
the present edition is now considered to be the most careful and complete ever published.”-.' 
London AthcncButn. 


GUNNING (William D.).— Life History of Our 
Planet. Illustrated with 80 illustrations by Mary 
Gunning. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt extra, $1.50. 

From this work, more so than any other, we probably gain a clearer idea of the almost 
Incredible changes Nature has wrought on our planet and still more wonderful changes vre may 
expect in the future. We are given several interesting pa^es — with illustrations-^n the mammoth 
creatures of pre-historic times, whose mummified bones alone remain to tell their story. It should 
be read by every one who desires to know more about the world we live in. 


HARDY (Lady Duffus). Through Cities and Prairie 
Lands. A most interesting book of Travels in 
America, i vol., crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, $i. 75 - 

Recollections of a most pleasant trip made by this distinguished lady through America. She 
has many warm words for the kind manner in which she w.as treated, and_ altogether the 
work is a most plcasingand pronounced contract to the average hastily written English impressions 
of America, 


HISTORY AND ANTIQUITIES OF FREE- 
MASONRY, as Connected with Ancient Norse 
Guilds, and the Oriental and Mediaeval Building 
Fraternities, to which is added the Legend of Prince 
Edward, etc., by George F. Fort. A New Edition. 
I vol., 8vo, $1.75. 

This work is the result of years of labor on the part of the author, whose original and persistent 
design has been to arrive at the iruthy and, at the same time, supply a want long felt by members 
of the Masonic Fraternity, as well as the uninitiated. That he has fully accomplished his purpose is 
demonstrated by the fact that it is now looked upon as the most standard and authentic history of 
Freemasonry in existence. 

HOW? or. Spare Hours Made Profitable for Boys 
and Girls. By Kennedy Holbrook. Profusely 
illustrated by the author. 8vo, cloth, gilt, $2.00, 
do., do., full gilt extra, $2.50. 

The most interesting and instructive work of the kind ever issued. By the help of their plaiwly 
worded and fully illustrated instructions, any bright boy or girl may devise unlimited entertain- 
ment and fashion many acceptable and useful presents for playmates and friends. The directions 
are for working with wood, paper, chemicals and paints, with knife, pencil, brush and scissors, and 
for the performance of sleight-of-hand tricks. 

JERROLD (Blanchard). Days with Great Authors. 
Dickens, Scott, Thackeray, Douglas Jerrold. Se- 
lections from their Works, and Biographical Sketches 
and Personal Reminiscences. Numerous illustra- 
tions. 8 VO, cloth, gilt extra, $2.00. 

To the hosts of admirers of these great authors this work will prove of absorbing interest, as it 
contains many reminiscences never before in print. Considerable space has also been devoted to 
their public speeches, and short, characteristic selections are given from their best works. 

LA FONTAINE’-'S FABLES.— Translated from 
the French by Elizur Wright, Jr. Illustrations by 
Grandville. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, $1.50. 

La Fontaine's Fables — there is magic as well as music in the name ; they have been deservedly 
popular for years, and they will be read with ever increasing pleasure by young and old, “ as long 
as the world rolls round.” This is the only moderate priced translation of these charming fables 
published. 

LE BRUN (Madame Vigee). — Souvenirs of. With 
a steel portrait, from an original painting by the 
author. 2 vols. in i, crown 8vo, red cloth, gilt 
top, $1.75. 

“An amusing book, which contains a great deal that is new and strange, and many anecdotes 
which are always entertaining.” It is written in a reminiscent and chatty style, and relates many 
“choice tid-bits” of the distinguished historical personages with whom the authoress was acquainted. 


6 


LOUDpN’S COTTAGE, FARM AND VILLA 

Architecture and Furniture. — Containing numerous 
Designs for Dwellings, from the Villa to the Cottage 
and the Farm, each design accompanied by analyti- 
cal and critical remarks. Illustrated by upwards of 
2,000 engravings. In one very thick vol, 8vo, $7.50. 

One of the niost useful books on architecture ever issued. Gives valuable hints to anyone con« 
(•mplatmg building either villas, cottages, or outhouses, and may save thoughtful and practical men 
hundreds of dollars. 

MACAULAY’S LAYS of Ancient Rome. — With 
all the antique illustrations and steel portrait. Beau- 
tifully printed, qto, cloth, extra gilt, $3.50 ; do., do., 
full gilt and gilt edges, $5.00; do., do., i2mo, cloth 
extra, $1.00. 

When the famous historian issued these lays, which have since become classics, it was a 
literary surprise, for no one thought that he was also a poet of such high degree. His poetry is the 
rythmical outflow of a vigorous and affluent writer, given to splendor of diction and imagery in 
his flowing prose, Stedman said of this volume, “ the lays have to me a charm, and to almost every 
healthy young mind are an immediate delight.” 

NAPOLEON. — Las Cases’ Napoleon. Memoirs of 
the Life, Exile, and Conversations of the Emperor 
Napoleon. By the Count de Las Cases, with 8 
steel portraits, maps, and illustrations. 4 vols., i2mo, 
400 pages each, cloth, $5.00 ; half calf extra, $10.00. 

With his son the Count devoted himself at St. Helena to the care of the Emperor and passed 
ilis evenings in recording his remarks. Commenting in a letter to Lucian Bonaparte on the 
treatment to which Napoleon was subjected, he was arrested by the English authorities and sent 
away and imprisoned. 

NAPOLEON. — O’Meara’s Napoleon in Exile; or A 
Voice from St. Helena. Opinions and Reflections 
of Napoleon on the Most Important Events in his 
Life and Government in his own words. By Barry 
E. O’Meara, his late Surgeon. Portrait of Napo- 
leon, after Delaroche, and a view of St. Helena, 
both on steel. 2 vols., i2mo, cloth, $2.50; half calf 
extra, $5.00. 

Mr. O’Meara’s works contains a body of the most interesting and valuable inf-fayation— 
♦Afc/mation the accuracy of which stands unimpeached by any a^ta^'ki r'.a'lcagrm^t its ai mor. 
rke details in Las Cases’ work and those of Mr. O’Meara mutually support rank other. 


7 


NAPIER^S PENINSULA WAR.— The History j 
of the War in the Peninsula. By Major-Gen. Sir I 
W. F. P. Napier. With 55 maps and plans of bat- 1 
ties, 5 portraits on steel, and a complete index. An 
elegant Library Edition. 5 vols., 8vo, $7.50 ; half | 
calf, $18.00. I 

Acknowledged to be the most valuable record of that war which England waged against the >•:. 
power of Napoleon, The most ample testimony has been home to the accuracy of the historian’s S 
statements, and to the diligence and acuteness with which he has collected his materials. ^ 

»?■, 

v: 

NELL GWYN, The Story of, and the Sayings of ^ 
Charles the Second, related and collated by Peter 
Cunningham, F.S.A. With fine portrait and ii 1! 
extra engravings. 8vo, cloth extra, $3.50. 

An exceedingly interesting memoir relating to the times of Charles II. Pepys in writing about 
Nell Gwyn called her “ Pretty witty Nell,” was always delighted to see her, and constantly praises 
her excellent acting. Cunningham states that had the King lived he would have created her 
Countess of Greenwich, and his dying wish to his brother, afterwards James II., was : ‘‘Do not let 
poor Nelly starve.” 

PICTURESQUE IRELAND, Descriptive and 
Historical. — Comprising 5 o full-page engravings on 
steel of its picturesque scenery, remarkable antiqui- 
ties and present aspects, from original drawings by 
W. H. Bartlett, and a complete account of its cities, 
towns, mountains, waters, ancient monuments, and 
modern structures by Markinfield Addey. 2 vols., 
4to, cloth extra, gilt edges, $10.00 ; or in half 
morocco extra, gilt edges, $20.00. 

These two handsome volumes will make the reader better acquainted with the picturesque 
features of the “ Emerald Isle ” than any work that has ever preceded it. Only by a combination 
of both pen and pencil was it possible to give an idea of the beauty of Ireland, its marvelous lakes, 
mountains and valleys, romantic streams, mysterious round towers, giant’s causeway, waterfalls, 
stately castles, magnificent religious and public edifices, etc., etc. 

PURITANS. History of the Puritans and Pilgrim 
Fathers. By Professor Stowell and Daniel Wilson, 
F.S.A. In I vol., 8vo, cloth, $1.75. 

Stowell and Wilson’s history is acknowledged everywhere to be the best and most exhaustive 
history of the Pilgrim fathers. A full and complete account of the rise of the Puritans under the 
Tudors to their settlement in New England, which is herein given, makesthis a most valuable work 
sfrefereace and study. 


STAUFFER (Frank H.). The Queer, The Quaint, 
The Quizzical. A Cabinet for the Curious. With 
full index. 8vo, cloth extra, $1.75. 

“Oddities and wonders. 

Antiquities and blunders. 

And omens dire ; 

Strange customs, cranks and freaks. 

With philosophy in streaks” 

are ail to be found between the covers of this book. It certainly is the completest collection of odd 
and curious events ever made. 

TAINE, H. A. — History of English Literature. 
Translated by H. Van Laun, with Introductory 
Essay and Notes by R. H. Stoddard. 4 handsome 
volumes. Cloth, white labels, $ 7 . 5 o. 

It \?. the hook t>n the subject, more wonderful that, written by a French critic, it should be 
accepted by English-speaking people— everywhere — as the authority on the literature of their own 
language, universally prized for its clearness, terseness and comprehensiveness, and yet as 
interesting as a work of fiction. 

THE APOCRYPHAL NEW TESTAMENT, 

Being all the Gospels ^ Epistles, and Other Pieces now 
extant attributed in the First Centuries to Jesus 
Christ, His Apostles and their Companions, and 
not included in the New Testament by its compil- 
ers. Translated from the original tongues, and now 
first collected into one volume. With numerous 
quaint illustrations, i voL, 8vo, cloth, red edges, 
$1.25. 

As a literary curiosity this work has excited the greatest attention all over the Christian world. 
iThere is nothing in it contradictory of those truths which have been accepted as revealed, but every 
chapter and verse goes to confirm the undoubted writings of the apostles and evangelists. 


WALT WHITMAN.— Leaves of Grass. Original 
edition. Year 85 of the State. Foolscap 8vo, 
cloth extra, $3.75. 

We offer here the Fine Original Edition of Whitman’s Poems. Recognition of the wonderfu* 
power and charm in his rugged verse has been freely given by all who appreciate the grand and 
beautiful in poetry. The “ Good, Gray Poet ” is gaining admirers daily ; his Leaves of Grass ia 
destined to live forever as a representative classic of a bold and rythmic style of versificatioB 
peculiarly his own. 


9 


WATERS (Robert). William Shakespeare Por- 
trayed by Himself. A Revelation of the Poet in 
the Career and Character of one of his own 
Dramatic Heroes. By Robert Waters. i vol., 
$1.25. 

In this able and exceedingly interesting book on Shakespeare, the author shows how the great 
poet has revealed himself, his life, and .his character, besides refuting conclusively the ciphers of 
Donnelly and other Baconian theories. Altogether the best life of Shakespeare, remarkably well 
written in vigorous English. “An original, wholesome, scholarly, and plainly sincere book on 
Shakespeare. It is after all something new about Shakespeare, which Lowell feared could not be 
said.” — E. C. Stedman. 

WILSON’S NOCTES AMBRpSIAN^.— The 

Noctes Ambrosianse, by Prof. Wilson, J. G. Lock- 
hart, James Hogg, and Dr. Maginn. A revised 
edition, with Steel Portraits, and Memoirs of the 
authors, and copiously annotated by R. Shelton 
Mackenzie, D.C.L. 6 vols., crown 8vo, including 
“Christopher North,” A Memoir of Prof. Wilson, 
from family papers and other sources. By his 
daughter, Mrs. Gordon. Cloth $9.00; half calf $18.00. 

This series of imaginary conversations were supposed to have taken place between Christopher 
North (Wilson), the Ettrick Sheperd (Hogg) and others in the parlour ofa tavern kept by one Am- 
brose in Edinburgh, hence the title Noctes Ambrosianae. A too literal interpretation is not to be 
given to the scene of these festivities, however, but the true Ambrose’s must be looked for only 
in the realms of the imagination. It is one of the most curious and original works in the 
English language, a most singular and delightful outpouring of criticism, politics and descriptions 
of feeling, character and scenery of verse and prose, of eloquence and especially of wild fun. It 
breathes the very essence of the Bacchanalian revel of clever men. Prof. Wilson is a writer of the 
most ardent and enthusiastic genius whose eloquence is as the rush of mighty waters. 

YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY OF THE RE- 
BELLION. By William M. Thayer. Illustrated. 
4 vols., i2mo, cloth, $ 5 . 00 , 

Fort Sumter to Roanoke Island. Murfreesboro’ to Fort Pillow. 

Roanoke Island to Murfreesboro’. Fort Pillow to the End. 

A faithful history efthe late war, which by its attractive presentation is especially adapted to 
youthful readers. Its narrative is full of dash and adventure, the military events are recited vividly 
aT\d thrillingly, it is interspersed with individual heroism, suffering and daring, and on the whole 
renders a better account of the war and its causes than any other book that we are acquainted with. 
The author’s style is perfect at all times, either delicate, pathetic, or picturesque, but always ia 
simple language that any young reader can fully understand. 


ZO 


CLASSICS rOR CHILDREN 


-^SOP^S FABLES. New edition, profusely illus* 
trated. 8vo, cloth, gilt, $2.00; do., do., full gilt 
extra, $2.50. 

./EbOp, born in the sixth century before Christ, while traveling through Greece, recited himself 
his home-truths, which in the shape of fables are full of wisdom that will teach and live forever. 
He did not collect or write them down, but they were easily remembered, became universally pop- 
ular and were passed on from mouth to mouth, and from generation to generation. 

ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES.— By Hans 
Christian Andersen. New plates, large, clear type, 
handsomely printed and illustrated. i2mo, cloth, 
black and gold, $2.00; do., do., full gilt, $2.50. 

The most charming fairy tales of the world, full of earnestness, humor, pathos, and fresh inven- 
tiveness, written in a style cf carefully studied simplicity. They have become familiar to children 
i in all countries. 

ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENTS. 

— New edition. Edited by E. O. Chapman. Pro- 
fusely illustrated. 8vo, cloth extra, $2.00 ; do., do., 
full gilt, $2.50. 

A very pleasing edition, with most attractive illustrations of the oriental fairyland over which 
Qiieen Shehrazad reigns. It is now and always will remain a classic. 

BARON MUNCHAUSEN.— The Life, Travels, 
and Extraordinary Adventures of. By the Last of 
his Eamily. i voL, cloth, gilt, $2.00 ; do., do., full 
gilt extra, $2.50. 

The original Munchausen was an officer in the Russian service, who served against the Turks. 

' He told the mo; t extravagant stories about the campaign till his fancy completely got the better of 
f his memory, and he believed his own extravagant fictions. The wit and humor of these tales are 
»iraply delightful. 

BOY’S OWN BOOK. — A Complete Encyclopaedia 
of all Athletic, Scientific, Recreative, Out-door and 
In-door Exercises and Diversions. Beautifully 
illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt, $1.50. 

The best present anyone can make to bright boys. One ought always bear in mind the adage 
“ all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 


II 


GRIMM^S FAIRY TALES. — Translated byji 
Lucy Crane. Profusely illustrated by Walter Crane, 
Wehnert, and George Cruikshank. 8vo, cloth, gilt ■ « 
extra, $2.co; do., do., full gilt, $2.50. 1 

The most entertaining fairy stories ever written, singularly fascinating, the delight of children, % 
young and old. ' V 

GULLIVER’S TRAVELS for Children. Specially J 
edited by E. O. Chapman, with over 200 illustra- ^l 
tions. I vol., 8vo, $2.00; do., do., full gilt, $2.50. 

The most original and extraordinary of all Swift’s productions. While courtiers and politicians ■ 
recognized in theadventuresof Gulliver many satirical allusions to the court and politics ofEngland, , » 
the great mass of readers saw and felt only the wonder and fascination of the narrative. ^ ^ 

ROBINSON CRUSOE for Children.—Edited by h; 
E. O. Chapman, with over 170 illustrations, i vol., 
8vo, cloth extra, $2.00; do., do., full gilt, $2.50. | 

How happy that this the most moral of romances is not only the most charming of books, but f 
also the most instructive ! — Chalmers. Was there ever anything written by mere man that the 
reader wished longer, except Robinson Crusoe. — Dr. Samuel Johnson. V 


KSNTY SSRSgS. 

A TALE OF WATERLOO; or. One of the 
28th. By G. A. Henty. With full-page illus- 
trations by W. H. Overend. 12 mo, cloth extra, J 
$1.50. 

A boy’s story which covers the period of the Napoleonic wars, and particularly describes the 
Waterloo Campaign. It is written in Mr. Henty’s best style, skillfully constructed, highly 
enjoyable and full of exciting adventures. 

IN THE REIGN OF TERROR.— The Adven- 
tures of a Westminster Boy^ By G. A. Henty. 
With full-page illustrations by J. Schonberg. 

i2mo, cloth extra, $1.50. 

“The story Is one of Mr. Henty’s best.” — Saturday Review. 

“The interest of it lies in the way in which the difficulties and perils Harry has to encounter 
bring out the heroic and steadfast qualities of a brave nature. Again and again the last extremity 
seems to have been reached, but his unfailing courage triumphs over all. It is an admirable boy’s 
book.” — Birmingham Post, 




WITH CLIVE IN INDIA; Of, The Beginnings 
of an Empire. By G. A. Henty. With full 

page illustrations by Gordon Browne. i2mo, cloth 

extra, $1.50. 

“ In this book Mr. Henty has contrived to exceed himself in stirring adventures and thrilling 
situations.” — Saturday Review. 

” Those who know something about India will be the most ready to thank Mr. Henty for 
giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands of their children.” — Academy. 


ROYAL PRESENTATeON SERBES. 

[boxed.] 

A THOUSAND AND ONE GEMS of English 
and American Poetry. By E. O. Chapman. Royal 
Presentation Edition. Beautifully illustrated. 
With full-page engravings. 4to, cloth, gilt edges,. 
$ 3 - 75 * 

An excellent collection of the minor poems in the English language, selected with great care 
and good taste. A truly representative book. The mechanical partis particularly handsome ; the 
type is large, paper of very good quality, illustrations interesting. 

BRYANT (W. C.) — Poems, Royal Presentation 
edition. 4to, 61 oth gilt extra, gilt edges, $3.75. 

A true painter of the face of this country and of the sentiment of his own people. It is his 
proper praise that he first, and he only, made known to mankind our northern landscape,— its 
summer splendor, its autumn russet, its winter lights and glooms. —Emerson. 

LONGFELLOW (H. W.) — Poems. Select Royal 

Presentation edition. Finely illustrated by Gilbert 
and others. 4to, cloth gilt extra, $3.75. 

Longfellow’s poems are marked by a most vivid imagination, great susceptibility to the im- 
pressions of natural scenery, and a ready perception of the analogies between natural objects and 
the human heart. 

POE (Edgar Allan) — Poe 7 ns, With life by Ingram. 

Royal Presentation edition, i vol., 4to, cloth, full 

gilt, $3.75- 

This elegant and complete edition of Poe will please the most fastidious taste of the admirers of 
The Raven, The Cells, and other wild and weird poems by the gifted Son of Genius. 


READ^S FEMALE POETS OF AMERICA. 

— Royal Presentation edition. Beautifully illus- ‘ 
trated and printed. 4to, cloth, gilt, gilt edges, 
$ 3 - 75 - : 

This magnificent gift book contains the representative poems of eighty American female poots, | 
vrith biographical notices and many portraits. Many of the poems here collected are entirely oa* 
of print in any other form, 

TOPPER’S POETICAL WORKS, viz. : Pro- 

verbial Philosophy, A Thousand Lines, Hactenas, 
etc. Royal Presentation edition, well illustrated 
and printed, i vol., 4to, cloth, gilt extra, gilt edges, 

$ 3 - 75 - 

A beautiful copy of Tupper, lYis thoughts and arguments can now be preserved in the style 
they so justly deserve. This is the handsomest and only large edition of his works made. The 
illostrations are after the photogravure process and add greatly to the beauty of the work. 


ROYAL OCTAVO SERIES. 

DISRAELI’S WORKS (J. C.).— Curiosities of 
Literature and the Literary Character Illustrated, 
with Curiosities of American Literature. By Rufus 
W. Griswold. i vol., 8vo, 510 pp., cloth, $3.00; 
sheep, $4.00. 

Few writers instruct so amusingly and amuse so instructively as Disraeli. Cunningham said 
.f him that “ he is one of the most learned, lively and agreeable authors ; that his writings have all 
the attractions for the general reader as the best romances.” And Lord Byron called him “ most 
entertaining and searching, whose works he had read oftener than perhaps any other English 
Writer whatever.” 

DOWNING (A. J.). Rural Essays, Horticulture, 
Landscape Gardening, Rural Architecture, Fruit, 
etc. Edited with Memoir of the Author. With 1 1 
illustrations. 8vo, 630 pp., cloth. $3.00; sheep, 
library style, $4.00. 

A very delightful work, the standard work on the »«bject. Mr. Downing has practical knowl- 
edge, true taste, and loves his subject, which qualities give freshness, charm, and value to what- 
ever he writes. This volume contains all of the author’s editorial papers, originally published w 
Ih? Horticulturist, 


H 


montaigne;s complete works.-^ 

Comprising* his Essays, Letters, and his Journey 
Through Germany and Italy, together with a com- 
prehensive life by William Hazlitt. i vol., 8vo, 
cloth extra, fully illustrated with portraits, $3.00; 
sheep, $4.00. 

These essays are an entertaining soliloquy on every random topic that comes into Montaigne's 
head, treating everything without ceremony yet with masculine sense. There have been men with 
deeper insight, but one would say never a man with such an abundance of thought. All in all, he is 
the freest and honesteat of all writers.-— Emerson. 

SHAKESPEARE;S works.— New large type 
edition. With Life by Alexander Dyce. With 
numerous Steel and Wood Engravings. In one 
handsome vol., 8vo, cloth extra. (Upwards of 
1,000 pages.) Best edition. $3.00; sheep, $4.00. 

Of the hundreds of editions made there is none in existence which combines in such '.n 
eminent degree good typography, substantial paper, excellent illustrations, tasteful binding, and 
last, though not least, a correct text with intelligent notes. The volume also contains Shakespeare's 
Miscellaneous Poems and Sonnets, besides the valuable life by Alexander Dyce, the greatest of 
the Elizabethan commentators. 


DE LUXE EDITEONS. 

A TREASURY OF ENGLISH SONNETS. 

—Edited from the original sources, with Notes, by 
David M. Main. Illustrated with steel portraits. 
I vol., royal 8vo, 112x7^x2, 470 pages, $7.50. 

A new edition of this renowned and now acknowledged to be the choicest and standard selection 
of Englrh sonnets. The publishers here recognize a demand for an exceptionally handsome edition 
equal to he English large papei copies, which readily sold for $30.00 each. It is a superb book, printed 
from large type on laid paper, cloth, with leaves uncut, steel portraits. The price has been made so 
low as is consistent with first-class workmanship. The edition is limited to only 550 copies. 

MEMOIRS OF COUNT GRAMMONT.— By 

Anthony Hamilton. Edited, with Notes, by Sir 
Walter Scott. Imperial 8vo. Uncut edges, bound 
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